The Drums of War
by Gold Scribbles
Summary: Extended Version: Persephone isn't kidnapped and Hades hedges his bets. However, nothing goes according to plan. The only love story here is a war story. Mod's Choice at the Dramione Couples Remix Fest. Draco x Hermione
1. Fall Semester

**Disclaimer:**_ Harry Potter_ belongs to JK Rowling in association with Scholastic Books, Warner Bros, etc.

**Author's Notes: **This was written for the Dramione Couples Remix Fest with the prompt Hades and Persephone. It will be extended for two more chapters. The title is a reference to the song in Disney's Pocahontas entitled "Savages," specifically the line, "How loud are the drums of war?" The answer to that question, of course, is: deafening.

* * *

><p>It began in September on an autumn day that felt like spring.<p>

Harry, Ron, and Hermione were out by the lake enjoying the weather. Wispy clouds floated in the bright blue sky. A warm breeze swept through the grass and sent ripples across the lake. Harry scribbled a half-formed sentence for his assignment before his eyes wandered over to a burgeoning Quidditch match several yards away. Ron was stretched out on his back, ignoring his work in favor of a midday nap. New freckles appeared, splashed across his face like raindrops as he slept in the sun. Hermione sat close to Harry underneath the shade of the tree as she worked on the proposed prefect schedule for the year. She'd been ecstatic when the Head Girl asked her to draw up the list after coming down with a stress-induced fever. Hermione saw it as a golden opportunity for practice when she becomes Head Girl next year and had been working on it for the better part of the morning. Sunlight peeked through the foliage and sprinkled across her parchment as she struggled to work out the partners and the shifts for the semester. If only she could figure out how to pair off the last group of students and which pair would patrol the dungeons.

The shade receded as the sun continued on its path until it felt as if a spotlight had suddenly dropped on her. Pleasantly warmed by the sun, she looked up squinting and sighed when she saw Harry sleeping with his head pillowed in his arms. There was a bright flash in her peripherals and she turned, half-expecting to catch a glimpse of the snitch flitting around.

It was no snitch.

Draco Malfoy stood leaning against the castle wall, half cloaked in shadow and half illuminated in daylight. The light reflecting off of his white blond hair and fair complexion created an unnatural brightness around him, contrasting drastically against his dark robes. It was all he seemed to wear lately: black clothes and a gloomy expression. It was as if he was perpetually in mourning.

It also seemed as if he was staring at her.

Hermione couldn't be sure due to the distance, but she could almost feel the weight of his regard. What made it even stranger was the absence of a sneer wrinkling his face. There was no contempt or animosity. He was just…_looking_. She met his stare, twirling her wand for good measure too. And in spite of the distance between them—him standing alone in the shadows and her sitting in the sunlight surrounded by friends—she could have sworn he smiled. Maybe.

He turned and ducked out of the light, melding seamlessly into the darkness before slipping inside the castle. The light caught on something near his collar and it winked brightly at her. A gust of wind blew by and Hermione closed her eyes enjoying the way it cooled her slightly overheated skin. The leaves rustled above her head.

Deciding to return inside, she roused the boys from their nap. Ron grumbled and rolled out of her reach, determined to remain unconscious. Harry squinted and slowly sat up, straightening his glasses.

"You've got ink stains on your cheek." Hermione tsked, rubbing it off with her thumb.

"You've got a leaf in your hair." Harry responded sleepily, pulling it out to show her. It was a rich green color near the stem that decayed into a murky yellow near the tips. Harry flicked it away and stretched. Hermione was packing her things in her bag when she spotted Draco Malfoy's unpaired name on her parchment. She quickly scribbled "Dungeons" next to his name and assigned a fifth year Gryffindor as his partner.

**xxx**

October winds came chilly and cluttered with fallen leaves.

Hermione spotted him near the edges of the Forbidden Forest. She left the castle half an hour ago, hoping a long walk would dispel some of her frustration with Harry and that potions book. She couldn't understand how he could trust in something that was so obviously dark magic, not to mention a _complete_ violation of school rules. He was _cheating_. She gritted her teeth together. It was completely unfair. While everyone else earned their grades with hours and hours of work, Harry just coasted by on those margin notes and he didn't see anything wrong with it! Her anger vanished when she caught sight of a dark figure standing near the edges of the woods. She took several steps back, heart pounding in her chest so fiercely her scar ached. Hermione began to make a hasty retreat when she noticed the familiar head white blond hair.

Malfoy stood tensely, staring deep into woods with narrowed, contemplating eyes as if waiting for someone to arrive. It was jarring to see him there against the backdrop of trees bursting with reds, golds, coppers, and greens. He was so devoid of colors after all. It was like he was a specter that wandered the grounds instead of a living student attending Hogwarts. Suddenly, as if sensing her presence, he turned his head and caught her gaze. There was no way for her to escape without it looking like he frightened her away. And she wasn't afraid, at least not of him, so she stood her ground as he moved closer until there was only twenty feet between them: a dueling distance.

"Malfoy," Hermione greeted coolly, a little unnerved by focus in his silvered eyes. She tilted her chin up as she casually slipped a hand inside her robes, fingers brushing along her wand just in case. "Don't you know it's _rude_ to stare?"

His lips curled into a devious smile. "Rumor has it that you missed a perfect score on your O.W.L.s, Granger. Slipping are we?"

"Well by that logic, I haven't heard a thing about your scores so you must've done _abysmally_," she snarled. "Now if you're done ruining my day, I must be off."

"Sources also say that you only got an E for Defense Against the Dark Arts too," he continued unfazed, stepping into her path as she tried to walk around him. "Given your _status_ and the current political atmosphere, shouldn't that be the only thing you learn to do competently?"

"I did just fine. Would you like a demonstration?"

"_Just fine_ isn't going to help you very much." He paused for a moment, head tilted with an air of consideration. Her grip tightened on her wand. "But I think I can."

Her eyes widened. "Excuse me?"

"I can teach you how to properly defend yourself."

Laughter escaped her before she could stop it. "Have you lost your mind? Why would I take anything you have to offer? Even if I needed any help, I already have a more than capable teacher."

"Oh really?" Malfoy stepped closer with a disbelieving smirk. She defiantly stood her ground, unwilling to be moved. "Would he really have anything worthwhile to teach you? Would he teach you everything he knows or would he hold back, afraid he might actually hit you?" he circled her slowly. She turned her head to keep him in her sight. "Will he use the Unforgivables?"

"Of course not! That's _illegal_." Hermione hissed.

"Oh Granger," he huffed in a condescending lilt. "That's the kind of thinking that'll get you killed." He leaned in close to her ear, as if to whisper a dirty little secret. "Nothing is off limits in war."

The wind picked up, blowing the leaves off the ground and swirling it around them. A chill ran down her spine as she tensed. It was the first time anyone confirmed it out loud. There were always signs—the Order's preparations, the prophesy, Harry's _entire life_—but no one wanted to say it. The fact that it was Malfoy of all people, the same boy who took cover behind his family's name and never stayed long enough to see the consequences of anything, made her give him a second look.

"You're suggesting that I should accept your offer to hurl Unforgivables at me?"

"Among other things, yes."

"Do you _really_ think I'll allow it?"

"I think you need some time to _really_ consider it before making any decisions. Think about it. Who better to learn about the dark arts from than from me?"

"You mean from the son of a Death Eater currently rotting away in Azkaban?" she challenged, meeting his glare.

"Mind your manners," he murmured dangerously close to her face before pulling away. "You know where to find me." He walked off, leaving her alone with goosebumps on her skin and questions in her head.

**xxx**

November burned: scorched black trunks, red-orange leaves, ashen skies.

Everything seemed to burn under the same hot anger that flared beneath her skin. Hermione flung her quill down and shoved her book away from her in frustration. She quickly gathered her things before stomping off toward her room. She wasn't speaking to Ron or Harry after the debacles of Ron's new relationship and Harry's mean trick with the Felix Felicis potion. Although Harry seemed apologetic, explaining that he thought it would get them talking again, she couldn't help but question his logic. The only talking that occurred was yelling. And Ron! He continued to be as insufferable as ever, rubbing his luck-free victory in her face. Worst of all, he was flaunting his relationship with Lavender in her face.

Well fine. She wasn't his keeper. He could do whatever he pleased, even if that meant he surrounded himself with people willing to inflate his already fat head. It's not like she was worried about him or anything. It's not like she thought he'd be poisoned for taking too much of that potion. After all, Harry wasn't known for his exact measurements and attention to detail before his stupid book came along to help him. It's not like she hexed McLaggen so he would get a spot on the team. It's not like she spent most of her summer _expecting_ him to ask her out. Of course not. That would've been nothing but a _supreme_ waste of her valuable time.

Hermione threw her bag down and flung herself on her bed, letting out a frustrated scream into her pillow. They were idiots. Stupid, stupid boys. She wasn't going to spend any more time thinking about them. They clearly weren't thinking about her. All they cared about this year were Quidditch games, Lavender Brown, and Draco Malfoy.

She sat up. Harry had been insistent that Malfoy was up to something. While she didn't believe Malfoy was a Death Eater, it wouldn't hurt to do a little digging on her own. While the others got distracted with kissing girls and cheating in class, she could at least get to the bottom of what Malfoy really wanted with her and just what had kept him busy enough to actually drop Quidditch altogether. It would be a good distraction and she had been given the perfect opportunity to do it.

After she parted ways with her patrol partner that night, she slipped inside an empty classroom on the second floor to wait. He was already there, lounging on a chair next to the window.

"Are you going to give me detention, Granger?" he asked with a smirk, holding up the note she sent him during dinner.

"I'm off duty," she replied flatly. "Does your offer still stand?"

"It does."

"Why?"

"Because I have infinite amounts of patience."

She couldn't help but laugh in disbelief. A small part of her wondered if he was really joking with her. "No, why are you trying to help me? It's not like I'm your favorite person or anything. We both know how you feel about me."

"How I feel about you?" he drawled, standing up and walking over to her. "While it's true that I don't think your kind is fit to serve my house elves, much less learn magic from our schools, and that I find your know-it-all personality unbearable, I'm willing to overlook all of that for the sake of…_school unity_."

"School unity?" Hermione repeated skeptically, unfazed by his insults. She'd heard much worse from him in the past. "Let's say I believe you. Now, out of everyone in this school, why choose me?"

"War is coming, Granger," he said with a serious glint in his eyes. "No one will say it because they're cowering under Dumbledore's protection, but he's just one man. He can't be there for everyone and he won't be around forever. You need to prepare yourself."

"I am perfectly capable of fighting my own battles," she snapped, clenching her hands to stop them from shaking. "I was there at the Ministry that night and—"

"—and you were taken out," he finished with a sneer. "A hex to the chest because you weren't paying attention, too busy trying to congratulate Potter on _finally_ casting a spell correctly. You're lucky to be alive."

"How do you know that?" Hermione asked sharply, fear creeping up her spine. This was a mistake. Perhaps Harry had been right all along.

"Like you said, I'm the son of an incarcerated Death Eater." He was closer now, just like the last time, slowly invading her personal space. "I _hear_ things."

"Care to be a little more specific?"

"What I hear regarding political motivations doesn't concern you." He leaned away from her and stepped back. She took a deep breath to calm her nerves. "What I know about defensive spells, however, concerns you _very much_. We'll need to get started immediately if you're to make any progress at all."

"I didn't agree to anything yet."

"You agreed to everything the moment you asked to meet with me."

Hermione bit her lips. "Why are you doing this?" she asked finally.

"If Potter manages to win—"

"You mean _when_ he wins it." Hermione corrected fiercely. Any other outcome was unthinkable.

"Well that's good because you'll be my pardon."

She stilled, sensing a trap being laid out for her. "Your pardon for what, exactly?"

"War is not a pretty thing," he answered neutrally, meeting her suspicious eyes without flinching. "I'm going to do what I must in order to keep those I care about safe. I trust you share the same sentiment?"

She understood. They were loyal to different things. It didn't mean she trusted him though. He skirted around all of her questions like an expert politician, manipulating her to agree to his plan and leaving her with no concrete answers. This would require more time than she anticipated.

"Agreed," she warily held out her hand.

He scoffed in amusement. "You want to shake on it? It's hardly an Unbreakable Vow." Nevertheless, he firmly shook her hand once and released it. "We'll work out the details soon. Keep an eye out for mail during breakfast tomorrow." As he headed for the door, he tucked his head close to hers and whispered, "Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go wash my hands. They've seemed to have gotten a little _dirty_ recently."

Bright, hot anger rushed in her veins but he was gone by the time she turned around. He made himself perfectly clear. Malfoy would teach her some defensive spells to use for an alibi, but to him she would always be the same unworthy muggle girl. Fine. She'd play along, and once she had the information she wanted, she'd show him just how good she was at self-defense.

**xxx**

December came quietly with snow. If Hermione looked out of her window, she'd see the remnants of fall: ash-gray skies and bare-black branches.

He waited for her at the bottom of the staircase leading up to the Gryffindor tower, trading sharp grins for every dirty look he received from her House. When he saw Hermione descending the stairs, he turned to the prefect trembling next to him. "You're free to go."

The fifth year quickly escaped to the portrait hole, giving Hermione a thankful and sympathetic look as he passed her. Hermione glared at Malfoy. "What did you do to him?"

"I don't know what you're talking about. This partner switch gives us the perfect opportunity to start our _tutoring_ sessions without suspicion," he said lightly, still amused by the prefect's exit. "He's quite the runner though, don't you think?"

"How did you even find out where our entrance is?"

"The better question is how do I know your password."

She turned her head sharply. "You know the password?"

He glanced at her from the corner of his eyes. "Does that make you uncomfortable?"

"It makes me annoyed. Now I have to go through the hassle of having it changed and letting every single Gryffindor know."

They crossed the castle in silence, speaking only to inform straggling students that curfew was starting soon and that they should make their way back to the dormitories. Suddenly the entrance to the dungeons loomed ahead, dark and cool, with only the occasional torch to light the way. Even though she'd walked these steps hundreds of times to get to Potions class and even though everything looked the same—day or night—since there were no windows in this part of the castle, still, knowing that it was night made it look vast and foreboding. She felt as if she might not come out, or come out a different person. It was terrifying.

A wisp of air floated near her ear. "Scared, Granger?"

She narrowed her eyes and gathered her nerves. "You wish."

They walked down the spiraling staircase, their steps echoing off the stone walls. Their shadows moved in a fractured dance along the curved walls in the flickering firelight. Hermione felt the cold seep through her clothes. He led them past classrooms and down winding halls, turn after turn until she couldn't remember the way back out.

She was lost. How deep did the dungeons run?

Finally they came across a door to the left with brass hinges. Inside there were several desks pushed against the left wall. She spotted an empty fireplace and conjured up a blue flame inside of it, bathing the room in a soft blue glow. It was a standard classroom size with relatively high ceilings that would cause an echoing effect.

_Click._

Hermione spun around to see Malfoy cast a silencing spell before casually leaning against the locked door, wand held loosely in his hand.

"A safety precaution. We don't want my house to know about our activities," he explained easily.

"Speaking of which, why haven't we run into any of them? The dungeons are notorious for giving prefects a hard time about curfew."

"They obey the right people."

She raised an eyebrow at him. "The right people?"

"People with power," he clarified with a sharp smile.

"Did you tell them to stay—?"

"Let's get started." He pushed off the door and widened his stand. She instinctively did the same. "Show me what you can do."

They spent the next two weeks meeting in that room during patrol, testing each other's strengths and weaknesses. Spells flashed and crackled out of wand tips and sizzled against hastily casted shields. He unbuttoned his collar and she tied her hair up out of the way when it got too hot. Cloaks and ties were often discarded during duels.

One day, after he called for a break, she wiped the sweat from her head and patted her singed hair. The worst of her injuries was a tender ankle when she moved too slowly to avoid stinging jinx aimed at her feet. All in all, she thought she did pretty well.

"Decent spell work and you are fairly good at dodging the ones you can't deflect. It reminds me of a rat scurrying behind crates for safety," he remarked. She gritted her teeth together and suppressed a snarl. "How about a quiz? What is the best defense against an Unforgivable?

She tilted her head up with a smug grin. "That's a trick question. There is nothing that can deflect Unforgivables. The only defense is to get out of the way."

"10 points to Gryffindor." A ball of red light shot out of his wand. "_Crucio_."

Pain, unlike any she'd ever felt, exploded in her veins and lit every nerve on fire. Spots of light appeared behind her closed eyelids. There was the distinct taste of lightning on her tongue, scorching her throat and rattling her teeth. He was killing her.

It lasted for what seemed like days before the pain lifted and she came back to her senses. She was on the ground with tears dripping from her eyes, emitting small whimpers and pants. Her body shuddered uncontrollably as her muscles slowly relaxed from their tense state.

"Five seconds." Malfoy said. The tips of his shiny black shoes came into view. Hot anger flared over her skin. "How long did that feel, Granger? It couldn't have been pleasant." His knees cracked as he bent down to look her in the face. "What are you going to do about it?"

_I'm going to kill you._

"H-how could you…" Hermione sputtered, frustrated that her tongue was too heavy to use.

"Easily," he answered, silver eyes hovering over her. "We're about to be part of the war that crippled the wizarding world almost twenty years ago. I can and will do whatever it takes to ensure that I live through it. What about you? What will you do?"

"Going to…report you," she mumbled through her clenched jaw. What she lacked in motor function, she made up for in the fury glowing in her eyes.

He scoffed and stood up. "That's not good enough." He stepped over her uncooperative body and she wished she had the strength to trip him. "I just tortured you and you want to report me to the Headmaster? You need to stop thinking like a stupid little elf enslaved to the rules and regulations of order and peace and start thinking like a soldier. There are people out there who will hunt you. If they catch you, you're going to die slowly and painfully. _Get up_," he lifted her by the shoulders and pinned her against a wall, "and start _fighting back_."

Hermione hissed in pain, and slid down until she hit the floor. She clutched her hand over the scar on her chest as it throbbed angrily. When the tremors faded, she slowly got to her feet and faced him. He stood several feet away with her wand in his hand. It didn't matter. She'd take him down with her bare hands.

He threw her wand at her feet. "Start taking these meetings seriously." Malfoy demanded. "You're wasting my time if you think this is just some second year duel."

She snatched her wand up. "You _despicable_ little roach." Her wand flashed through the air and he went tumbling into the tables and chairs. "Don't think you're going to get away with pulling a stunt like that." She stormed to the door, intent on paying Dumbledore a visit. "Be thankful you're a minor and you'll only face expulsion rather than a trip to Azkaban. A shame really, you could have spent some _quality_ time with your father again."

A strong force knocked her away from the door and back against the wall. When she caught her breath, she saw him blocking the door with his wand raised at her. Her arm snapped up and she pointed her wand at him.

"Do you really think that Potter's the only one you have to worry about?" he asked with quiet anger. She stilled. "You're the only reason that idiot isn't dead yet and the others will figure that out soon enough. Do you really think that if they catch you, they're going to hold back? You'll suffer hours under the Cruciatus Curse. They're going to leave you in _pieces_ for Potter and Weasley to find unless you focus on protecting yourself for a change."

He was right. She knew he was right, but it didn't stem her anger and humiliation from being blindsided with an Unforgivable. "Why?" she demanded in a strained voice. "Tell me why you used it on me. Why couldn't you just say that to me from the beginning? Did you get a kick out of torturing the unworthy little muggleborn?"

"Aversion therapy. I did it to give you a small taste of what it could be like if you get caught." There was no hint of deceit in his face. He was telling the truth. "Now you'll do whatever it takes to avoid feeling that kind of pain. It will make your body dodge faster and it will make your aim truer. You need to stop aiming to disarm and start aiming to kill."

"I don't kill. I'm not like _you_."

"Then you're going to _die_. Those are your choices, Granger."

The tension crackled between them. Finally, she lowered her wand. "We'll see about that."

Warily, he lowered his wand too. It was almost time for them to leave. "You still have a lot of work to do. Stay over the break. Most of the castle will be empty."

She wanted to laugh in his face, scream at him, hex his eyes out of their sockets. He was _mental_ if he thought she'd do anything he ever said again. Instead, she stormed out of the room and blindly stumbled along until she found the staircase leading out of the dungeons. However, even as she crawled under her covers, safe in the tower far away from him, Hermione knew it wasn't over.

She declined the invitation to spend the holidays at the Burrow. She told her parents she was staying at school to work on a project. When the last group of students left on the carriages, her feet led her to the dungeons entrance. In the Great Hall, professors were charming Christmas bulbs onto the tree and pine-scented wreaths over the doors. Taking a deep breath, she went in one step at a time until she was engulfed in shadows.

**xxx**

_End of Fall Semester_**  
><strong>


	2. Spring Semester

January clouds hung low in the sky, dark and heavy with things unsaid.

Hermione's feelings for Malfoy remained largely the same. He was an unfeeling bigot who offered her defense lessons as a fail-safe in case he needed pardoning. What had changed was that over the break, she begrudgingly admitted that the lessons did help. He pointed out that throwing a hex, regardless if it hit the target or not, bought valuable time to run for cover; that her shields could be strengthened if she envisioned an impenetrable wall as she casts the spell; that she should always aim for the legs first before any other body part if she insisted on incapacitating her opponent.

Harry would have never thought of half the things Malfoy taught her. Sometimes, when she managed to cast a particularly powerful hex, she swore there was something akin to approval lingering on his face. Surprise perhaps.

He was in the middle of teaching her a set of complex dark spells for protective wards when the semester began again and their time was cut back to the measly hour during patrol. Fortunately he thought of a way around it.

"I signed up for Muggle Studies," he said to her one night as they donned their cloaks and prepared to leave another tough session behind.

Hermione's jaw dropped. "You what?"

"A necessary evil," he replied with a downward curl of his lips. "I persuaded the professor that it would be an interesting area of study given my family's strict aversion to all things muggle. I told him that I would need a tutor, preferably muggleborn, who wasn't daunted by my name and had the enthusiasm for helping fellow students understand the subject." He slanted an amused look at her and she had the odd thought that he was teasing her right now. "Expect him to be in touch with you soon."

Now they had an extra two hours of practice every Tuesday and Thursday. The professor offered his classroom for the session after Malfoy made it known that the arrangement was something preferably kept secret. The down side was that the professor would linger in the room for the first fifteen minutes before taking his leave, forcing the two of them to actually discuss the lessons.

Hermione didn't mind. She enjoyed watching Malfoy frustrated for a change.

They sat across from each other discussing a text that would be the subject of a paper he had to write due at the end of the week. The professor shuffled his things around his desk, occasionally peeking at them from the corner of his eyes.

"He's not even doing real work." Malfoy grumbled quietly. "He's too busy spying on us."

Hermione held back a laugh. "Can you blame him? We must be quite the sight. Who'd have guess a Malfoy willingly work with a muggleborn without trouble?"

He threw her a baleful glare and she surprised herself by giving him a cheeky grin. "So do you understand the story?" she asked loudly.

"Of course I do," he replied, pretending to scribble down some notes. "The god of death kidnaps a girl for his bride and her mother threatens to destroy all life on earth if her daughter isn't returned."

"First of all, she wasn't just a girl. She was a _goddess_." Hermione corrected. "Secondly, her mother fell into a state of depression and couldn't tend to her duties. That's what caused the plants to die."

The professor gathered his things and _finally_ moved toward the door.

"Some goddess," Malfoy remarked, stretching. "She made useless friends that couldn't protect her and frolicked in an open field as if nothing could ever happen to her."

"I think you're missing the point," Hermione said dryly. "It's just a story people made up to explain why there are seasons."

"Or it's a story about how people who don't know how to defend themselves are easy targets," he countered with a pointed look.

The door clicked shut leaving them alone.

"Are you planning to kidnap me?" she challenged, casting a silencing spell on the room and setting up barriers to protect the classroom furniture.

"Here's a better question." He flicked his wand at the door and locked it. They assume the dueling position and cross their wands. "Are you the kind of girl who lets herself be kidnapped?" he asked with a razor sharp smile.

Hermione tensed in anticipation and leaped back. "What do you think?" she retorted, shooting a hex at his legs.

**xxx**

February was the coldest of all.

Hermione quickly left of the tower, calling out a quick reassurance to Harry that yes, she'd be fine being alone with Malfoy just like she'd been fine every other night for the past two months. It had been touching at first but lately all she wanted was for Harry to see that she was perfectly able to handle herself against people like Malfoy. She suspected that Harry's concern was due to his immense suspicion that Malfoy had some Death Eater agenda and due to his ever growing hero complex. Ron was spitting mad and couldn't even look at her without starting an argument during these nights but Hermione ignored him. Ron couldn't criticize her for her official prefect partner when he waltzed around the school with Lavender and answered to that disgusting nickname, _Won-Won_.

She eagerly escaped to meet Malfoy at the dungeons entrance, not only because she was sure she figured out how to flawlessly execute the new spell she'd been working on for the past two sessions, but also because she'd grown to look forward to spending time with him. There was a comfort in having these lessons with him in the same room every week that she couldn't find anymore with Ron and Harry. The rift that was forming between her and the boys was widening with each passing day. She cared about her best friends deeply but she couldn't help her anger at Ron for choosing the wrong girl or at Harry for choosing to cheat.

It was easier to run to the dungeons where she traded blows with an outside party to relieve stress while being productive at the same time. She found herself preferring the quiet found beneath the castle over the stuffy tower where strong gusts of wind howled day and night outside her window. The dungeons was the coldest area in the castle but that was easily fixed with a quick heating spell along with one of her dancing blue flames.

When Hermione saw Malfoy leaning against the wall next to the stairwell, she noticed the dark smudges under his eyes that spoke of troubled, sleepless nights. He'd been visibly wearier these days. She hesitated, unsure if it was her place to ask if everything was fine with him. They had a working relationship that never crossed into personal territory because from the beginning, one of the unspoken ground rules was that the lessons didn't mean they were friends. She wondered if there were some family issues he was struggling with as they made their way to the familiar door. She watched as he flinched at his own shadow flickering next to him on the wall. Perhaps there was a power play among Slytherins he was involved in and was losing.

A thought suddenly struck her as they entered the room and he performed the routine spells to ensure their privacy. Or perhaps she wasn't the only one with a secret agenda. Hermione didn't believe for a second that the boy who'd been teaching her how to defend herself against dark magic was one of the people out to harm her. It didn't make sense.

However, his words echoed in her ears: _Well that's good because you'll be my pardon._

Pardon for what? She had assumed it was just a fail-safe in case people wanted to hold him responsible for his father's crimes, but he had always worked to gain his father's approval. Everyone knew that. Just how far would he be willing to go to get it?

Malfoy was staring at her with a raised eyebrow. Did he ask her something? "Is there a reason why you're standing there like a deaf mute, Granger?"

Wasn't there the tiniest part of her that doubted his intentions, that agreed with Harry?

"Are you sure you're up for it tonight? You look exhausted," she said, gripping her wand tightly.

He laughed mockingly. "Worried are we? I'm touched."

"What exactly are you doing if you're not sleeping at night? You don't particularly strike me as the reading type."

"I'm plagued at night with thoughts on what more I can do to improve your abysmal aim." He barely had time to pull up a shielding charm to deflect the hex she aimed at his chest.

"Try again."

His face darkened. "You seem to have an idea about my activities. Why don't you tell me?"

"Harry thinks you're a Death Eater," she blurted out. "Is it true?"

Silence stretched between them. She didn't know what his shocked expression meant. After a few tries, he responded evasively, "Would it matter if I was? This has nothing to do with what we're both here for. Wands up." He threw a couple of basic stunning spells at her and she countered them easily, feeling her earlier frustrations with Harry melded into her sudden anger with Malfoy.

"Of course it matters to me! How can you even say that this has nothing to do with our lessons? I'm trusting you to help me defend myself. I need to know that you're not setting me up to be used against Harry."

"This isn't about Potter. It's about _you!_"

"_It's always about Harry!_"

A loud crack exploded from a wand. He jumped out of the way. The spell hit the wall and burnt it black. They stood panting on opposite ends of the room, watching each other with narrowed eyes. "You can't talk about this war without talking about Harry." Hermione said with a quiet sadness in her voice. "The papers are right. He's the Chosen One. _He_ can end it."

"That idiot might be the celebrity face of your side but he's not the only one who was _chosen_." Malfoy said furiously. "This war, at its core, has always been about blood: the purebloods and the—"

"Mudbloods?" Her voice rang high and sharp, echoing off the stones around them. "Dirty little muggleborns? That's what you're going to say, isn't it?" To her humiliation, she felt her eyes sting with tears and did her best to blink them away.

"Listen. I know that this concept is hard for you to understand, but I don't want you or those who are like you to die."

"No, you just want to cast us out of the only community we've grown to love. You just want us to never attend magical schools where we can learn to control our powers and lead healthy productive lives. Instead, you'd rather we harm ourselves and those around us when our magic manifests itself spontaneously without proper control. You'd rather the muggle community hunt us down and kill us all so you won't have to dirty your hands with such a lowly task. Does that cover all the points?"

His lips thinned. "You would have diluted our community, giving a rise to more squibs births with your inferior blood—"

"The highest cases of squib births come from pureblooded families! Stop telling yourself these lies. Muggleborns have been in the wizard communities for hundreds of years and there is not a hint of muggle influence at all. We learned your culture and spells to integrate into the community, not to take over in the name of muggles everywhere."

"I know what I know and—"

"You don't know anything! You know what you're taught and you've been taught to look at people like me as if we're nothing but diseased rats. I _know_ that look in your eyes when you shout those slurs at me. I _know_ what it's like to be hunted. Don't try to teach me about discrimination and hatred. I know more about war and death and fascist ideologies than you ever will even if you live to be three hundred years old!"

He sneered at her, readjusting his grip on the wand. "And where did this vast knowledge come from? The _library_?"

"My mother is Jewish, you idiot!" she shouted. "We have a long history of being hunted and being blamed for things that weren't our fault. During your first war, over six million of my people were being fed into ovens in the muggle world and everyone denied it ever happened! We've been slaughtered, dehumanized, starved, and tortured. _You don't know._ You don't know what it's like to inherit that kind of history. You don't know what it's like to live with it."

Her tears rolled down her face and dripped off the tip of her nose. She buckled under the weight of her confession, curling up on the floor. "I thought I could escape my mother's stories if I came here. I thought I could have a different history. But it's all the same, isn't it? It's just a different name. I'm never going to get away," she cried.

His shoes echoed loudly in the room. She sensed his presence standing over her and remembered the time he used the Cruciatus Curse on her. She felt the same way now as she did then: raw and vulnerable with no way to stop her body from shaking. "You're one of them, aren't you?" she whispered, burying her face in her hands. "How could I have been so stupid?"

She heard his knees crack and the sound of his wand hitting the floor. His hand gently pushed her shoulders back so that he could meet her eyes. "Hermione," he said awkwardly, unused to forming those syllables together. "I'm trying to keep my family safe. I am going to do whatever I must to make sure of it. But I give you my word that I will not raise my wand against you. I am not your enemy. You'll be safe here with me. I promise."

Hermione nodded listlessly, focusing on the unsure path his hands made up and down her arms in an attempt to comfort her.

"Promise me you won't kill or torture anyone."

"I promise." he relented.

He picked her up and carried her next to the fire when her tremors didn't stop. The frost in her body thawed slightly when he silently sat down next to her a few feet away.

Where did this leave them now?

**xxx**

March brought thunderstorms at night and sun showers during the day.

Hermione winced in the sunlight. She shielded her eyes as she tried to spot Harry, Ron, and Ginny in the sky during their Quidditch practice. She promised to spend the day with them but she wasn't sure how much more of it she could take. This sport had always been dangerous and a bit of a bore to her. Sitting in the sun, she felt her skin starting to burn. She longed for the dim, cool walls of the room with the brass hinges.

Surely thunder didn't rumble as loud down there as it did in the tower.

Deciding that she made enough of an appearance, she sent a small flare up to them and motioned that she was heading back to the castle. They waved their assent and Hermione left, keeping to the cool shade along the castle walls.

Later that night, in the soft blue glow of their room, Malfoy gave his final notes on her progress. "I'm impressed. You've mastered everything I've taught you," he praised.

"Was there ever any doubt?" she replied with a teasing smile.

"However, the stakes are a little higher than what we've been working on so far. There's one more thing you need to know how to do."

"And what's that?"

He looked at her with muted silver eyes and whispered, "Avada Kadavra."

Her ears rang. Surely she misheard him. His grim expression and tense body language said otherwise. "You can't expect me to use an Unforgivable."

"You have to. It's a matter of life and death."

"I'm not a _murderer_."

"Better that than a _victim_," he snapped. "You're the one who's always saying how you've been hunted your whole life, dogged by stories of near death experiences in both worlds. It's time for you to fight back and fight _hard_ if you want to live."

"This isn't right. This isn't the answer."

"Right and wrong will be determined by the victors of war. There is no defense against the Unforgivables, you know that, and you can only run for so long before they catch you." He moved to her side and raised her wand arm, aiming it at a chair in the back. "The best defense is a strong offense," he murmured into her ear. "Try it."

She sucked in a deep breath and willed her aim to be steady. _It's fine,_ she thought, _it's only a chair_. "_A-avada Kadavra._" A wispy green light floated from her wand and vanished before it reached her target. She started to lower her arm but he pushed it back up.

"Again."

The same result.

"Again."

This time only green sparks flew from the tip of her wand.

"_Again._"

"_I can't do it!_"

"_Visualize_ _it!_ That isn't a chair. That's the person who's been hunting you all your life. That chair is the Dark Lord coming for you and your family. Think about your defenseless muggle parents."

The green light was stronger this time and made contact with the chair. The wood fractured and sunk into its frame.

"That's a start. Again."

"There has to be something more you can tell me."

"You have to want to kill. Righteous anger won't help you. The spell feeds off of the desire to end a life. I know you can't muster up that kind of feeling so I need you to focus on revenge. I've seen what you did to Edgecombe. You need to amplify the part of you that came up with that spell to make this work. Now do it _again._"

They spent the rest of the night like that. Hermione started crying silently as she willed herself say those words over and over. Malfoy kept her arm up and barked the same orders over and over against her temple, his hot breath branding her skin with his words.

_Again! Again! Again!_

**xxx**

April warmed things up considerably, melting unyielding ice into life-giving water.

"Did I ever tell you what I got on my Muggle Studies paper?" he asked conversationally one day.

"74?" she guessed tiredly while gathering up her hair into a ponytail. They sat facing each other on the floor after calling an end to their lesson. Their cloaks and ties were piled on a nearby table.

"94 percent," he said proudly.

"_You're welcome._"

"I didn't get it because of _you_. He failed me initially but saw things my way when I went to his office hours."

She shot him a horrified look. "You didn't threaten him, did you?"

"Of course not. I argued my case and enlightened him."

"What did you say?"

"I explained how the god wasn't such a terrible person because she got the chance to go back to the surface."

"You're joking." Hermione said incredulously as she gave him a pointed look. "It doesn't absolve him of his crime. He kidnapped her and put everything in peril because of his selfishness."

"No, but it was about making compromises and sacrifices to get what you really want. Anyway, that girl returned to him in the end."

"_Goddess_," she snapped, "and if you _really_ knew that story, you'd know the only reason she went back was because he tricked her into eating the fruit."

"There's a lot of that in your muggle stories. Women tricked into eating forbidden fruits and are, consequently, punished for all time," he mused, tapping his wand on the floor. "Anyway, I don't think she returned to him because she was tricked. She probably she never left him to begin with, not really anyway."

"Come again?"

"Think about it. You don't return to the living world after spending so much time among the dead without leaving something behind. She would've changed. She might look like her old self, but inside, she'd be something else." He locked his eyes with hers and murmured, "You can't go back and pick up where you left off as if nothing's different."

He fell silent and the quiet weighed heavily on both of them. They hadn't attempted Avada Kadavra since she broke down two weeks ago but she knew he wanted her to continue with it. "I know what it would cost you to use that spell," Malfoy said hesitantly. "You can choose whether or not to use it but I want you to have that option."

His hand moved as if to touch her hair, to brush the stray curls away from her face. She held her breath. He seemed to catch himself though and instead rested it lightly on her shoulder in an encouraging gesture. "This has always been about your safety," he murmured softly. "They won't hold back. You shouldn't either."

Hermione gripped the fabric of her skirts tightly in her fists and nodded.

**xxx**

May appeared unexpectedly with poison-bright blossoms releasing noxious scents into the air.

"Give it a rest, Hermione! By the sound of it, Malfoy was trying to use an Unforgivable Curse, you should be glad Harry had something good up his sleeve!"

"Well, of course I'm glad Harry wasn't cursed! But you can't call that Sectumsempra spell good, Ginny, look where it's landed him! And I'd have thought, seeing what this has done to your chances in the match—"

"Oh don't start acting as though you understand Quidditch. You'll only embarrass yourself."

White hot rage flooded her vision. She turned to see Ron hiding behind a book, trying his best to turn invisible, and Harry staring at Ginny with a grateful smile. Her anger intensified so much at Harry's reaction that she swore she tasted lightning. The empty fireplace erupted into a full on blaze.

Hermione quickly stormed out of the common room before she gave into her anger and personally showed Ginny what a something good spell _really_ looked like. They'd have to scrape Ginny off the walls by the time Hermione was done.

She sent Malfoy a note from the owlry, asking him to meet her in their usual room as soon as possible, and quickly made her way to the dungeons. Everyone should be settling in to dinner now and she had absolutely no appetite. Hermione easily navigated the stairs and hallways in the dungeons, a task that seemed impossible on the night of her first lesson. The wall to her left slid open and a group of sixth years emerged. It must've been the Slytherin quarters. One of them noticed her presence and smiled wickedly.

"Well look who it is. Did the little Gryffindor lose her way in the dark?" he sneered.

"Do you need help? It'd be a shame if you got lost and never found your way out," a girl with blonde hair suggested with false concern. They surrounded her, each one poised to strike.

Hermione had no patience to deal with intimidation tactics. "All of you can either continue on your way to dinner or you can go back to the dormitories where you will remain for the rest of the night."

The Slytherins laughed. She moved to push forward but a boy with dark hair and bright eyes blocked her way.

"What are you going to do? Try and attack us like Potter did to Draco?" There was genuine anger in his eyes. They wanted revenge for what happened to their housemate.

"You don't want to do this, especially not with me." Hermione hissed, gripping her wand.

"No, I'm pretty sure we do," the blonde girl responded. "Pansy's been calling for blood since the attack and we agree."

Hermione let out a growl. With a sudden jerk of her wand, she disarmed them all and hurled their wands up the stairs, scattering them across the castle floor. The Slytherins gasped in surprise. How did Granger perform nonverbal magic so well? What kind of spell was that?

"_Stand down,_" Hermione hissed.

Sensing danger, they all stumbled away wide-eyed and nervous.

Malfoy's words echoed in her head: _They obey the right people. People with power._

"Terrorizing my house, Granger?" Malfoy called, walking down the stairs slowly. He must have just left the hospital ward. "Potter must be rubbing off on you."

She made to grab his arm to help him down the steps but he hissed a warning. She huffed and turned around. Fine. Let him struggle. She walked ahead and fired her blue flames into the empty fireplace. It roared to life, washing everything in blue light. She secured the room once he arrived.

"As much as I've always admired your dedication to learning, I don't think I'm up for teaching you today," he commented dryly, propping himself against the door.

"Then today you'll be on the defense," she said, hurling a bright yellow curse at him.

Despite his words, he blocked and countered her spells perfectly and threw a few spells at her in return. Each spell grew more vicious and sharp with each flick of a wand. They seemed to be pouring their anger, humiliation, and frustration from the week into this fight. Finally, with a quick wave of her wand, Hermione managed to send a stinging jinx past his defense and hit his wrist. He dropped his wand and she summoned it to her hand before he could blink. They were out of breath and sweating.

"I don't need you to teach me anymore." She aimed her wand at a nearby chair. _Avada Kadavra._ A jet of green light hit it and the chair exploded.

She soaked in his shock and smiled sharply when it melted into approval.

"What brought this on?"

Hermione could've named a lot of things—the Prince's book, the way Ron never apologized to her, the way Harry refused to admit he was wrong—but found herself blurting out, "Ginny." When she said it, she realized it was true. "She said I should be grateful Harry knew that spell he used to attack you. She implied that I wanted to see him hurt."

"Well I'm not surprised. Stupidity runs in that family's genes." Malfoy snarled. "I hope someone knocks her off her broomstick on Saturday."

Hermione crossed the room until she stood a few feet away from him, feeling her rage build up again. "She told me that I would embarrass myself if I talked about that game too, as if anyone needed to be an expert to know how much Harry screwed everyone up with his stunt!"

"He should've been expelled." Malfoy agreed darkly, plucking his wand out of her grip.

"Who does she even think she is, telling me that I should be grateful Harry wasn't injured? Does she think she's more important to him than I am now that he finally decided to spare her a second glance after six years?" she demanded, anger coloring her face and shining in her eyes. "Where was Ginny when Harry needed help during the Triwizard Tournament? Where was she during third year when the whole debacle with Sirius Black happened? When the Chamber of Secrets was opened? I'll tell you where she was! She was in the background watching him face all of these things down with hero worship in her eyes. Well _hero worship_ didn't keep him alive; _I_ did! She couldn't even manage to tell him she was being used to open the Chamber of Secrets! I told him what to do even when I was petrified! _Me!_ And after everything, he sides with _Ginny?_"

"Potter's a sodding moron."

"He's so thick, I'm surprised he figured out how to fly," she said nastily.

"He doesn't deserve you," Malfoy said it with such ferocity that it stopped her tirade. "Let him have that useless bint. They can both fall off the Astronomy Tower for all I care."

Hermione laughed suddenly. She laughed long and hard, leaning against him for support. It was so bizarre, standing in the dungeons with someone who tormented her for years and trading awful thoughts about her best friends. Her eyes watered. She laughed so hard it felt like crying.

"Have you gone and lost your mind too?" he asked with an amused smile, brushing her hair away from her face.

Her smile melted off. Perhaps it was his tone or his gesture, but Hermione suddenly recalled all of times he pushed her to be better and encouraged her during the year. She remembered his breath ghosting over her ears when he corrected her stance and the comfort of his presence sitting next to her in front of the fire. She remembered the weight of his hands on her shoulders and wanted, _insanely_, to know what that weight would feel like all over her body. It was a terrible idea, the worst she'd ever had, but it was all she could think about.

"Granger," he said with a wary tone, sensing the unfamiliar tension between them.

She dropped her wand and reached up, fingers weaving into his soft hair. "Draco," she murmured and kissed him, breathing deeply through her nose. Rejection didn't cross her mind. All she felt was the urgent need to soak his comfort and understanding into her skin. She was going to die if he didn't touch her. It was madness.

He tensed up and she willed him to respond with small nips and whimpers. She scraped her nails lightly against his scalp and he groaned. His wand clattered against the floor next to their feet. Suddenly he spun her around and pressed her against the door, one hand cradling the back of her head while the other wrapped around her waist, keeping their bodies pressed tightly together. She sighed at the familiar feeling of his solid body against her own, running her hands over his lightly defined biceps. His mouth slanted over hers, hot and soft and wet. He tasted bitterly of Pepper Up potions with an underlying sweetness of good tea. She never wanted to part from his mouth.

Hermione thought the tightness in her chest would ease once he touched her. Instead, it broke apart and spread to different parts of her body that clamored for his touch, making her breath hitch in her throat as her body ached for him even more. She squirmed against him, trying to find something to get rid of the tension. His breath hitched and he pinned her against the door with a bang, thrusting his hips against hers. She broke the kiss and cried out in pleasure, urging him to do it again. He complied, grinding against her while he sucked on her neck.

His hands pulled her vest over her head and tugged violently on her blouse. "I have to touch you," he panted harshly, silver eyes bright with fervor. "I'll _die_ if I don't."

She's infected him with her madness too.

They tore each others' clothes off until she was left in her skirt and underwear and he was left in his ruined button down shirt, hastily stepping out of his pants. He refused to take off the shirt even after she tore it open. He quickly reached under her skirt and ripped her underwear off, the elastic band snapping against her hips, before hoisting her up. She wrapped her legs around his hips and bucked against him. She didn't want to think. She only wanted to drown in this wonderful feeling.

The sharp pain of his entrance startled her out of her haze. After feeling nothing but pleasure, she had forgotten it would hurt. He nuzzled his face against hers as he stilled to savor the moment. The brightness in his eyes as he unconsciously chanted her name under his breath pulled her back underneath the wave of desire before she could even taste regret. They moved together roughly, her body banging forcefully into the door with each powerful thrust of his hips. Hermione couldn't catch her breath. Her heart jostled in her chest with every surge he made into her body. She clawed at his back and hips, matching his thrusts with her own, and he gripped her thighs tighter. They rocked violently against each other, each one determined to squeeze every groan and gasp from the other person's lips.

Suddenly his rhythm broke. His hips surged into her frantically, grinding against her in a way that sent electricity shooting through every nerve and had her crying out incoherently. She hugged him tightly against her chest, trying to hold onto something solid.

"Oh fuck. _Oh fuck. Oh fuck._" he breathed harshly. The door rattled beneath them violently.

"Draco. Draco. _Draco._" she keened, asking him for _something_ she couldn't name.

He hoisted her higher against the door and bent his head down to suck hard on her breasts. "_Hermione,_" he gritted out as he tensed against her, trapping her in his arms as if there was no escaping this moment, this inevitability, _him_. She felt a sudden flood of hot liquid shooting inside her where he buried himself. It burned away all of the oxygen in her body. When his muscles finally relaxed and his joints unlocked, they both sunk to the floor in a tangled heap of sweaty limbs. He softened inside of her and slipped out. She felt his essence slowly leak down her thighs.

He pulled away and stared into her eyes. There was no regret or shame between them, only an alarming awareness of the other person that hadn't existed before. Their breathing slowly returned to normal. She watched his eyes flickered down their bodies. He sighed and reached for his wand, casting a quick spell that scrubbed away her blood and his seed.

"Do you regret it?"

"No."

"Good. I just needed to hear you say it," he paused, and then continued. "Did you come?"

She felt the lingering ache in her body, the emptiness he left. "Probably not."

His hands slowly caressed her thighs and hips in circular motions. "Stand up."

He kneeled as he guided her up on her shaky legs and leaned her against the door again. She flushed, feeling slightly embarrassed to have his face so close to her hips. "What are you—_oh gods!_"

He ducked his head underneath her skirt and sealed his lips over her, suckling her swollen parts gently. His tongue lapped at her seam and her knees buckled, sinking deeper into his mouth. "Oh my god. _Draco_, oh yes, _please_!" she cried, rocking her hips into his mouth. He nudged her legs wider apart, opening her up more, and gripped the bottom of her thighs to support her weight.

Her hands ran over his head, gripping his hair tightly when the pleasure threatened to overwhelm her. Frustrated that she couldn't see him, she unzipped her skirt and ripped it off, revealing his white blond hair and his brows furrowed in concentration. His eyes opened and he gazed up the expanse of her body until he was staring directly into her hazy brown eyes. They held each others' gaze as he continued to feast on her, following each retreating sway of her hips aggressively with his lips and tongue.

She loved his mouth. Hermione couldn't understand how she lived so long without it.

With a few more kisses and a strategic nip, the tight pressure inside her body burst and sent aftershocks of pleasure coursing through her veins. He hummed against her in satisfaction, causing colors to streak across her vision. By the time everything calmed down, she found herself on the floor again with his face still nestled between her legs.

Draco Malfoy, the boy who always thought she was nothing but an unworthy, dirty little muggleborn, had been on his knees worshiping her body as if it was a sacred temple. The irony wasn't lost on her. She could still feel his tongue leisurely lapping up the release on her thighs and on her center. Slowly, she pulled his head away and drew his face up toward hers. He resisted when he was eye level with her chest, but instead of touching her breasts like she thought he would, he gently kissed her scar. Overwhelmed by the strength of her affection for him in that moment, she bent her head down and kissed him deeply, tasting herself on his tongue.

He pulled away slightly and she peppered his face with light kisses, making sure to linger on the darkness under his eyes and the stress lines between his brows, before chasing after his lips. Hermione hummed when she felt him relax and shifted closer to settle herself in his lap. He swelled against her thigh at the contact and moaned. "_Hermione,_" he whispered hotly against her ear, his arms snaking around her body. "I'm not done with you yet."

They moved away from the door and closer to the fire, exploring each other with enthusiasm. He marked her body with bites and bruises, licking the salt from her skin as he pumped into her over and over again. She covered his neck with bruises and kisses, gently licking the thin white scars on his chest that Harry left on his body. His heart pounded fiercely underneath her lips and hands. _See Harry?_ she thought giddily. _Draco's not so bad. He does have a heart. It's beating for me right now._

Hermione learned a lot of things about him that night. She learned how to touch him to get him hard and how much pressure to use when she sucked his thick length down her throat. She learned that she loved feeling him come inside her just as much as when he came across her tongue. She learned that dirty words could make him lose control and fuck her mercilessly into the floor. She also learned that no matter how passionate or out of control he could be, Draco always kept a hand pillowed beneath her head so it wouldn't bang against the hard stone floor.

In return, she taught him how to say her name over and over until she was sure it was the only thing he knew how to say anymore.

"This doesn't change anything," he breathed, trying hard to be strict and failing miserably when her hand came up and cradled his face.

"So are we done here, Draco?" she murmured, trailing a finger along his spine while stroking the side of his face affectionately. She felt him tremble underneath her fingertips.

"Not yet."

They taught each other to be insatiable in that blue lit room deep beneath the castle. In the firelight, it seemed as if they were washed out at sea, bodies flowing and ebbing together as they struggled for air before finally drowning in the violence of their ardor.

"_Again._"

**xxx**

And finally: _June._

"Draco, come quickly!" Snape said as he dragged the shaking boy away from the castle and away the body.

June arrived with summer's heat, incinerating everything to dust.

"I saw it. I saw it with my own eyes," Harry shouted angrily, trembling with grief. "I know who did it. It was Snape and Malfoy. They did it together. They killed Dumbledore."

Hermione's wand clattered to the ground.

**xxx**

"_Promise me you won't kill or torture anyone."_

"_I promise."_

**xxx**

_End of Year 6_


	3. July 1998

July's heat was stifling. The postwar air was clogged with freshly overturned dirt, ashes, and _vengeance_.

The air smelled the same in the bowels of the Ministry dungeons but at least the lights were dim. Hermione noticed the blue glow created from the sparse lighting bouncing off of the black marble courtroom and pulled her cardigan tighter against her body. It was cold, like all dungeons were, and though it should have provided relief from the muggy weather outside, she found it equally stifling in the lowest level of the Ministry. There was nothing comforting about this particular trial. The standing crowd practically salivated at the thought of a guilty verdict, panting at the prospect of revenge disguised as justice. Hermione swore she could smell blood in everyone's mouth as they bared their teeth in twisted grins and leaned closer to where the accused sat on the floor.

Hermione thought it was fitting that, after all that had happened during the war, the next time she saw Draco Malfoy was in a dungeon. She also thought it was ironic that the last time she stepped foot inside this building, it was her blood they wanted and not his.

He was sitting upright in the chair on the floor, facing the members of the Wizengamot in their high seats and plum-colored robes. The public growled at his back, leashed only by the railing that sectioned the public seats from the rest of the courtroom. Hermione sat in a small section off to the side of the members in the witness box. From her seat, she saw Draco the way the members saw him: a boy with the Dark Mark on his forearm and no regret on his face. His parents were also on the floor, each held off to the side. Lucius had gone after Narcissa and they now stood chained and silenced as their son was thrown to the wolves.

"This isn't a trial," Hermione said quietly, "It's a farce. Everyone knows it's a guilty verdict."

"As is bloody well should be." Ron answered next to her. He squeezed her hand reassuringly. "It's about time the Malfoys got what was coming to them."

"It's completely barbaric." she snapped and quickly scanned the crowd. "Where's Harry? He still hasn't shown up."

"I saw him earlier. He must've gone for some fresh air. He'll be fine."

The room fell silent as acting Minister of Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt, assumed his place at the podium and called for order. "Draco Malfoy. You have been brought before the Ministry today on the following charges: association with the Dark Lord as a Death Eater, harboring Death Eaters and the Dark Lord in your home, facilitating the Death Eaters' invasion of Hogwarts, cursing a Hogwarts student, conspiracy to kill the late Albus Dumbledore, and the attempted murder of the late Albus Dumbledore." said the minister in a booming voice. "How do you plea?"

Draco swallowed his nerves before replying, "Loyalty to my family, your honor."

The crowd tittered. "That is not an acceptable answer, Mr. Malfoy." Shacklebolt reprimanded. "There is only guilty or not guilty."

"It is the most honest one." Draco replied evenly.

"This may be difficult for you to comprehend, Mr. Malfoy, but despite your family's reputation in the past, you are in no position to be so insolent now."

"Forgive me, your honor. I was under the assumption that I was in the position to speak the truth."

"This is a place of _justice_, Mr. Malfoy." Shacklebolt said angrily. "We don't care for your elaborate speeches or half-baked excuses. We care about the truth in the form of plainly stated facts. If you are unwilling to provide them for us now, we will hear them from someone else." Shacklebolt turned his head and looked at her. "The court calls on Hermione Granger to take the witness stand."

Hermione felt every single pair of eyes suddenly focus on her as if a spotlight had dropped over her head. Everyone was staring at her, everyone except _him_. Draco didn't look at her. He didn't even twitch at her name. It irritated her. "I respectfully decline, your honor."

Shacklebolt nodded sympathetically as if he knew why. His presumption grated against her nerves even worse than Draco's indifference. "I understand this is difficult for you, Miss Granger, but we must hear it."

She wouldn't do it. She refused to stand on a stage and display her scars for everyone to ogle at and whisper about. She refused to be objectified any more than she had been during the war. They had no right to make her relive _Bellatrix Lestrange_ just so they could vicariously touch her pain while remaining unscathed and whole. She absolutely _refused_.

Ron abruptly stood up. "I'll testify in her place." he proclaimed with anger lining his face. "I know her experiences firsthand and I can talk about them if she can't."

Draco snapped his head in their direction but she was too busy trying to pull Ron down to notice Draco's sudden intense interest with her. "What do you think you're doing?" she hissed, outraged and incredulous at Ron's arrogance. She tried to pull him back down but he broke free.

"I'm saving you." he answered simply before walking down to the floor. Hermione could feel Draco's eyes boring into her skull but she couldn't bring herself to look at him. Instead, she kept her eyes glued on Ron as he talked and talked and _talked_. The testimony he gave in her place set her teeth on edge and made her skin crawl. Ron's words were filled with _his_ anger about what had been done to _her_. At one point, he even turned to Draco and spat, "And you did absolutely _nothing_ while your aunt nearly killed _my_ _girlfriend_."

Ron couldn't have been more crass.

"Thank you, Mr. Weasley. That will be all." Shacklebolt said.

Hermione was overcome with the intensity of her hatred for Ron. When he sat down next to her and reached for her hand, she viciously told him, "Don't you _dare_ touch me!" before scooting as far away from him as her seat would allow. She didn't care about his hurt feelings. He was lucky she didn't curse his meddling tongue right out of his mouth.

"Mr. Malfoy, I will ask you again: how do you plea?" Shacklebolt demanded.

Draco closed his eyes and clenched his jaw. She suddenly remembered stroking that same jawline until it relaxed under her fingertips a lifetime ago in another blue-tinted room.

"Speak up, Mr. Malfoy! Are these allegations against you true?"

"Yes," Draco admitted finally, _bitterly_. Narcissa's chains rattled as she tried to stifle her tremors. Hermione knew the woman was close to tears.

The crowd roared, drowning out the minister's attempt to quell the rabid call for blood. "Order! I will have none of this in my court." Shacklebolt bellowed. Once everyone settled down again, he continued, "Is there anyone from the witness box who would like to speak on behalf of Mr. Malfoy?"

"I will." Everyone turned to see someone walk across the floor.

"_It's Harry Potter!_" someone exclaimed as the crowd buzzed with excitement.

"Has he gone mental?" Ron demanded as he stood up and tried to catch Harry's attention. "What's he doing?"

"Sit down, Ronald." Hermione snapped at him. She leaned forward and saw Harry desperately trying to suppress his anxiety. After everything he's been through, Harry still hated being the center of attention.

"Mr. Potter, you have the floor." Shacklebolt said with deference.

Harry nodded and pushed on with a determination Hermione rarely witnessed. "I know that the Malfoys have a history of choosing the wrong side," he began, "and everything they're being accused of are true, but it's complicated. I was there when Malfoy made an attempt on Dumbledore's life and I was furious that he dared to do it. But Malfoy wasn't happy. He was scared, terrified that if he didn't, his family would be killed." Harry paused in his speech and turned to look at Draco. "I never liked you and I didn't intend to come to your defense either, but I remember that night at the Astronomy Tower. You couldn't go through with it, even though your family and your life were at stake, because you knew Dumbledore was a good man and he didn't deserve it. He didn't deserve to die that way."

Draco looked away uncomfortably and Hermione could practically feel the resentment flowing from his body.

"It's admirable that he refrained from killing Dumbledore but that is not the matter at hand. He still made an attempt on his life, Mr. Potter, and we do not take those things lightly." a member sitting on the highest bench proclaimed from the sea of plum-colored robes behind the minister.

"We can take intent under consideration but that is something insubstantial and abstract, Mr. Potter. We care about the tangible things Mr. Malfoy did during the war." added Isadora Flemmings, the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

"Tangible things?" Harry repeated angrily. "How about my life and everyone else's life in this room for that matter? Is that _tangible_ enough for you all? The only reason any of us are alive right now is because of Mrs. Malfoy." Gasps erupted from the courtroom. Hermione leaned forward and clutched the railing in front of her. No one knew exactly what happened in the forest and, until now, Harry kept it to himself. "She lied to Voldemort and saved my life. If she hadn't done that, Voldemort would still have control over the ministry. Everything would have been lost."

"What caused this sudden change in allegiance?" the minister asked skeptically.

"She did it to save her son." Harry responded. Hermione could see the tense line of Harry's spine and the white-knuckled grip Draco had on the chair.

"So it wasn't her intention to save you out of the goodness she suddenly found in her heart." came a sneer from the sea of plum-robed members.

"I thought intent wasn't tangible enough to interest this court." Harry shot back heatedly. "Mrs. Malfoy's reasons were selfish but it saved us all. My mother didn't die because she knew it would have given me the power to destroy Voldemort. She didn't even know I would live through the night. She died trying to protect me."

"Your mother died selflessly trying to protect your life." said Flemmings as she leaned forward challengingly.

"Mrs. Malfoy risked torture and death had Voldemort caught her lie so that she could save her son. How is that any less selfish?" Harry demanded.

"Are you suggesting that we allow the Malfoys go unpunished?" Flemmings asked in disbelief.

"I think they should be punished but I don't think they deserve Azkaban. I'm asking the court to keep their good deeds in mind too."

"Thank you for your testimony, Mr. Potter." Shacklebolt interjected smoothly, ending the brewing argument between Harry and Flemmings. "I believe the court has enough evidence now to put it to vote."

The room tittered. Harry left the floor and returned to his seat on the other side of Hermione. Hermione silenced any of Ron's attempts to speak to Harry with a scathing glare and clutched Harry's hand in her own, squeezing it in support. Harry squeezed back gratefully. Lucius and Narcissa grasped each other's hands, their chains clanking ominously. Draco's composure began to crack under the tension.

Finally everything quieted down and Isadora Flemmings asked in a booming voice, "Those in favor of conviction and a sentence to Azkaban?" A wave of hands rose up. Harry and Hermione tightened their grip on each other. Was it more than half?

"And those in favor of clearing the collective accused of all charges?" Not one hand was raised.

"No," Hermione whispered as Draco lowered his head in defeat and Narcissa began to cry against her husband. Lucius also looked distraught and weighed down by the inevitability of a guilty verdict.

"What is the meaning of this?" Shacklebolt demanded. "Ever member must vote!"

"If I may, Minister," Flemmings interrupted, "Those in favor of conviction with an alternative sentence?" The rest of the hands rose at this unprecedented third verdict. Hermione held her breath. Was it enough? The numbers were substantial but she wasn't sure. The hands that called for the full punishment were so many after all.

"Do we have an official count?" Shacklebolt asked. A small paper slip floated into his hands. "Very good." He unfolded the slip and raised an eyebrow. "By a difference of one vote, the accused have been convicted and will face an alternative sentence to Azkaban."

The courtroom erupted with noise. Draco broke down in relief, as did his parents, taking huge breaths of air now that Azkaban no longer loomed over them.

"Order in my courtroom." Shacklebolt bellowed. "There is still the issue of the punishment to resolve."

Hermione leaned close to Harry and lightly squeezed his hand. "It looks like your word still holds its weight in gold." she teased shakily.

The corners of his eyes crinkled as a world-weary smile peeked through. "I am the Chosen One, after all."

He sounded so tired, so sad. She felt her love for Harry swell painfully in her heart and she kissed him on his cheek.

**xxx**

Hermione was nearing the elevator lifts when someone grabbed her by the arm and pulled her into a secluded corner. "I told you I don't want to talk about it anymore, Ron!" she hissed as she turned around. It wasn't Ron. Draco stood before her, washed out by the dim lighting against the black stone walls, and looked down at her with a furious expression. "Oh. I thought—"

"And I thought we had an agreement." he snapped. "What was that back there? You let Weasley testify against me?"

She didn't need this again. She had just finished having this conversation with Ron and refused to repeat it with Draco, so she rallied her anger and pushed back, "You mean the agreement where you teach me a couple of neat tricks and I tell them what a stand up guy you are? Sorry, I don't back promise breakers."

"You clearly weren't paying attention back there. I was cleared of all charges by the Wizengamot."

"Oh, I paid attention. It seems your list of crimes is longer than just conspiracy to kill Dumbledore."

"I didn't kill him!" Draco shouted in frustration.

"You tried!" Hermione accused. "You promised me you wouldn't kill or torture anyone and you were still going to kill Dumbledore! You stood by when Bellatrix _tortured_ me in your house. You sat with your head on the table pretending like I wasn't being carved up by a madwoman." She saw his eyes flicker down to her covered left arm and felt her scar burn under his attention. "You told me you weren't my enemy. You said I would be _safe_ with you." Her anger at his betrayal colored her words.

"I said you'd be safe with me _there_, in the dungeons!" Draco corrected angrily. "Don't pretend as if you didn't understand me, Granger. We all know you're the _brightest witch of our age_." Hermione bristled at his mocking tone. "I made it clear from the beginning that my top priority was keeping my family and myself safe above all else. Did you really think our 'tutoring sessions' would change that? That _you_ became more important to me than _my parents?_"

She wanted to say yes, she did think she was important to him. That, despite her better judgment, she recklessly thought she meant _something_ to him. The truth was, however, that he was right. She never believed for a second he would protect her outside of their blue-lit room. Despite her growing ease around him, she was always waiting for him to go back on his word and bite her like the snake she knew he was. Then he disappeared like a criminal the night Dumbledore fell off the Astronomy Tower and Hermione tasted the bittersweet satisfaction of being right all along about Draco Malfoy.

"I wanted to," she admitted shakily, red with humiliation, "I wanted to think that I was important to you, not more than your parents, but enough for you to keep your promises to me."

He clenched his jaw and curled his hands into fists at his side. "You told me you weren't the type of girl who got kidnapped either." he said finally with a slight rasp in his voice. "It looks like I'm not the only one who doesn't keep true to his word."

"Do you really think I wanted to get caught?" she asked angrily.

"No one _wants_ to get caught; they just are." he glared. "After all the spells and techniques I taught you, I find it a little unbelievable that you were captured."

"Did you really think I would use anything you taught me after finding out what you did?" she asked incredulously. "It makes me sick to think I ever trusted you. I wasn't going to use any of your spells just so you could use me for your own plans." She smiled sharply at his stunned expression. "That's right. Even if I did stand witness before the court instead of Ron, it wouldn't have done you any good. My testimony would've condemned you. The only reason I didn't was because your betrayal helped me realize that I had to protect my own family before the war truly arrived. I erased their memories of me and sent them to Australia long before any Death Eaters thought to target me."

His mercury-colored eyes narrowed. "Interesting. So you understand your loyalty to your parents but you ignore my reasons for being loyal to mine."

"My parents were innocent," Hermione argued. "I wasn't going to let them die because of me."

"Neither was I," Draco countered, backing her into a corner. "I would've sacrificed everyone in the castle if it meant saving my parents."

"You nearly did, you selfish _prat_." she hissed, refusing to flinch at his proximity.

"At least I walked away from the war alive and intact."

Hermione scoffed and grabbed his left forearm where she knew his Dark Mark remained, "I beg to differ."

Draco stiffened, furious at her audacity, but instead of pulling away like she thought he would, he gripped her left forearm tightly in return.

"Well, it seems that selflessness has its drawbacks too." he sneered, tightening his grip when she tried to pull her arm free and leaning close enough to whisper into her ear. "How do you like _your_ scar, Granger? Do you think it's worth your righteous decision to _not_ use what I taught you? At least I still have my parents. At least my parents _remember_ me. Tell me, do you even have any idea where your parents are now?"

Hermione felt her rage bubble up to the surface of her skin. She wrenched her arm away and flung him back against the other wall with an explosion of raw magic she hadn't exhibited since her magic first manifested itself when she was a child.

"_Don't you dare touch me!_"

She hadn't wanted him to be locked away in Azkaban during the trial. She had only wanted him to have a fair punishment and to be held accountable for his actions, but now she didn't care what his punishment was as long as it kept him as far away from her as possible.

Because she knew she _would_ kill him this time.

Breathing heavily, she turned on her heels and quickly made her way to the lift. "We're done." She heard him scramble to his feet just as she slammed the gates closed.

"We're not finished." he denied as he reached the gates.

It was too late. The lift had already retreated several feet back.

"Yes we are. Our deal is over." Hermione argued fiercely.

"I warned you what would happen if they caught you and you didn't listen." Draco shouted stubbornly, rattling the gates. "Don't you dare blame me for something you could have prevented! I _taught _you how to protect yourself! Get back here, Granger! Don't you _dare_ leave! _This isn't over!_"

They both heard the whirl of the lift as it prepared to move.

"You better keep your nose clean, Malfoy." Hermione warned him with a dangerous edge in her voice. "I'm going to be head of the Magical Law Enforcement Department one day and, trust me, you _don't_ want to stand trial while_ I_ preside over the courts."

The lift shot away before he could respond, moving up past the different levels of the ministry, leaving him in the dungeons far below. She got off at the atrium and hurried into an empty fireplace, determined to put as much distance between them as possible.

When Hermione finally reached the surface, she burst through the doors into the sunny afternoon streets of London and took deep, gasping breaths of the air. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't get enough oxygen. It was too humid, too bright, too _sharp_. Her lungs couldn't process it.

Crumbling against the side of the building, Hermione realized she was having a panic attack. She tucked her head between her knees and tried to block out the traffic noise. She focused solely on steadying her breathing. The scar on her arm itched like a terrible rash and she remembered the terrible pressure of Draco's hand on it.

Hermione spent the next twenty minutes sobbing openly on the sun-drenched streets of London.

"I'll never forgive him," she repeated chokingly. "I'll _never_ forgive him. I won't. _I can't._"

**xxx**

_End of Year 7_


	4. August 1999

August at the Burrow was like a drug dream: colorful, bright, and hot.

Hermione hated the heat. She hated summer. She hated the way it encouraged other people to peel off their clothes and flaunt their unscarred limbs. She hated how it made her more conspicuous, with her thick long-sleeved cardigan, and how people whispered about it behind her back. It felt like she was walking around with a spotlight permanently tracking her movements. Only a few people knew what was written on her arm, but it didn't stop everyone else from speculating about the last mark Bellatrix Lestrange left on someone.

She stood on a small hill facing the Burrow. She could see smoke curling lazily out of the chimney and could almost feel the warmth from the oven as Mrs. Weasley prepared supper. Hermione spotted Ron and Ginny tossing a quaffle around on their brooms in the yard, their hair glinting like fire in the setting sunlight.

Sometimes she hated the sun too.

She felt the heavy weight of the ring in her palm, and moved several yards to the left out of their line of vision. Ron had given the ring to her during Christmas as a token of his feelings and his intentions for her. She'd been quite proud that she hadn't thrown the ring in his face. Instead, she told him she'd give him an answer after she finished her last year at Hogwarts. It would have been easy to accept it immediately. She knew a life with Ron would be easy and normal and hadn't she wanted exactly that two years ago?

But she wasn't that girl anymore. She was angrier and scarred and bitter, with no real answer to Ron's question.

The truth was that she still wasn't over the spectacle he made of her during the Malfoy trial, even though she, _begrudgingly_, agreed to move past it after being hounded by his family for weeks on end. She resented them for forcing her hand, and hated the mob mentality that family seemed to cultivate. Hermione found herself wondering why she bothered to show up as she fiddled with the ring in her sweaty hand. Was she here to give it back? Was she here to slip inside the house with the ring on her finger, and be swallowed up into that family?

She took a deep breath, and was overwhelmed with the smell of wildflowers in the meadow and of the trees in the forest surrounding the Weasley property. She was used to the concrete pavements and buildings of her hometown, not this immense presence of nature. The bright colors and sickly sweet-smelling flowers made her dizzy. She felt insignificant against the landscape surrounding the Burrow, as if the slightest breeze would knock her down, and the meadow would swallow her whole.

Panic rose in her chest as she stumbled about, trying to hold onto something to ground herself. She'd been having a lot of panic attacks lately, mostly triggered by strong floral smells, by the sight of the woods, or by the crack of apparition and disapparition. _Perfume. Snatchers_._ Malfoy Manor. Bellatrix Lestrange. _

She collapsed on the ground and tucked her head between her knees, flowing into this position with an ease born from practice. Mashing her lips together, she fought against the burn of lightning in her veins and fire on her skin by desperately telling herself that it was over. _It's just phantom pain and nothing more. There's no knife, there's no wand. _

She looked up, gasping for air. Ron and Ginny were gone. The sun had nearly disappeared beneath the vanishing point. The sky was on fire.

"Pull yourself together," Hermione scolded herself softly while trying to unclench her fists. The ring was cutting into the flesh of her palms. "It's over."

"Not quite."

She stiffened in surprise as someone bent his tall frame around her hunched figure in an imitation of a protective stance. Her hands unclenched in shock, dropping the ring onto the ground, as a pair of arms snaked around her body. Long fingers wrapped around her fists. She twisted her head around but could only see the fringe of white blond hair falling over his eyes. He was pressed too closely against her face for her to see him clearly but she knew it was _him_ by the familiar scent of his skin and the coolness of his touch.

"What—?"

The sharp tug of an activated portkey sucked the breath out of her.

They vanished just as the last weak rays of sunlight faded.

**xxx**

"_Get off of me!_" Hermione snarled. She struck her arms out wildly even as she gritted her teeth against the disorientation fogging her head. He swiftly moved away from her to the other corner of the room, and waited until she centered herself again. Breathing heavily, she straightened up and glared at him. "Malfoy."

"Granger," he greeted, perfectly unruffled by her fierce hostility.

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't hex you to bits."

"I don't think I will," he said, twirling a wand—_her wand!_—in his hand, "considering that I have your wand right here, I can safely say you won't be hexing anyone in the foreseeable future."

Panic sliced through her thoughts. She was unarmed.

_Snatchers. Malfoy Manor. Bellatrix Lestrange._

"Give me back my wand!"

"You'll get it back when I decide it's safe for you to be armed." Malfoy replied, tucking her wand into his robes. "We have some unfinished business to settle."

"You will give me my wand this instant." Hermione reached into her purse and roughly pulled out the small pistol. Despite her spastic movements, she managed to aim it at his chest with relatively steady hands. "I won't miss. I've been practicing and I'm a wicked shot."

She'd been carrying it ever since the war ended. After the war, she had taken a few classes and registered her firearm. She told herself she would never be helpless again. _Never again_.

Draco looked curiously at it. "What is that? Am I supposed to be intimidated?" A small part of her realized then that he'd never seen a pistol before in his life, at least not one so small and compact.

She gritted her teeth. "You might not be familiar with this, but trust me when I say it'll get the job done. It's messier than Avada Kadavra but it's quick and you'll feel every hit. I'll make sure of it."

"My, my. Aren't we particularly cunning today?" he remarked with an appreciative smile.

"I'm so pleased you approve." she said sarcastically. "Hand it over _now_."

"No, I don't think I will." he hummed. "You can keep your insurance there and I'll hold onto your wand in the meantime."

"That wasn't a request. I could kill you right now." Hermione took the safety off with a threateningly loud _click_.

"I'm sure you could, but I don't think you will. After all, you said it yourself. You're not a murderer, no matter how much you want to be." Draco looked decidedly unruffled as he called her bluff.

Hermione depressed the trigger and blew a small hole in the wall inches away from his right shoulder. Furious with him for being right and with herself for letting him be right, she put the safety back on and lowered her weapon.

"I can't believe you took a shot at me." Draco reproached, dusting the small debris off his shoulder. "That hurts my feelings."

There had to be some other way to force his hand. "This is abduction! Kidnapping!" she snarled, struggling to contain her panic. "They'll snap your wand for this!"

He rolled his eyes. "Don't be so dramatic. I didn't kidnap you."

"Oh really? Then what do you call sneaking up on someone from behind and transporting that person against her will to who-knows-where?"

"I call it a favor. I just saved you the trouble of securing an international portkey."

"International…?" Hermione took in her surroundings. _A hotel room?_ She tucked her pistol in her bag and flung the window curtains aside, stopping short at the sight.

_Snow._

She turned to face him warily. "Where did you bring me?"

He walked up to her even as she retreated, stopping only when they were inches away from each other. She tensed at his proximity. His wintry eyes traveled over her face intently, as if he were re-familiarizing himself with her features again. "I told you. We have unfinished business to settle. I brought you here to finish it."

"Where is 'here' exactly?"

"Australia."

Her eyes widened and she turned back to the window, taking in the strange, snow-covered skyline beyond the glass.

The sun was rising.

His gaze never left her face.

**xxx**

_Although summer flourished throughout the United Kingdom,_

**xxx**

"Why are you helping me? This has nothing to do with you." she said, turning away from the window to face him. She steadied herself on the wall adjacent to the left side of window.

"I dislike being indebted to people so I'm settling the score as quickly as possible." he sighed and leaned against the wall on the other side of the window. The gray morning light softened his features, making him appear weary and sad. She wondered if it had the same effect on her as well.

"I don't understand," she furrowed her brows. "You don't owe me anything."

"Potter." he said with a downward curl of his lips. "He intervened on behalf of my family with his testimony. Since I can't very well return the favor, his family being dead for quite some time and all, and the Weasleys are beyond anyone's help in my honest opinion, the next best thing is you."

"What makes you think I would even want your help?"

"Oh, I don't think you want it at all. You need it though."

She pursed her lips. "That's rather conceited of you. I don't need your help."

"One year after the war and you're still dilly-dallying with school and Weasleys instead of securing international portkeys and preparing to find your parents," he raised an eyebrow. "I do my research, Granger. It's obvious you've got a case of nerves."

"Obvious, is it?" she snapped, trying to hide the vulnerability he so easily detected behind her anger.

"Quite so," he replied. "In fact, you're so transparent I'm surprised your friends haven't picked up on it. Then again, you do have an awful habit of surrounding yourself with idiots." Her jaw clenched and she leaned forward slightly, as if preparing to attack him for the insult. He seemed amused by her loyalty. "So what do you say, Granger? Let's find your muggle parents quickly and quietly. No one has to know I'm helping you."

"How can you possibly think I'll trust you with this?" she glared.

"There's no double-cross," he assured, placing a hand half-way between them on the window still. "There wasn't before, and there won't be one now."

"And if there is?" she pressed, narrowing her eyes.

"There isn't. Nevertheless, you have your little insurance," he said, gesturing at her bag.

A careful and decidedly dangerous smile crossed her face. "I have my gun," she agreed, placing her hand centimeters away from his on the window still.

**xxx**

_somewhere, Down Under, was winter._

**xxx**

_Dear Harry,_

_I'm spending some time abroad to look for my parents. It's time for me to bring them back now that the danger has passed. Please don't come looking for me, I need to do this on my own. Please give my regards to the Weasleys and tell Ron not to wait for me this summer. I'll find him when this is done._

_Love from,  
>Hermione<em>

**xxx**

"I do wonder about this arrangement," Hermione said absently as they crossed the busy street. "Why a hotel room?"

He slanted a bored glance at her. "I didn't realize you were above such plebeian means."

She ignored the jab. "I would've expected you to have some sort of property here, or at least for you to choose some kind of luxury wizarding hotel."

He stopped walking immediately and glared at her. "Granger, this is a _penal_ _colony_. Why on earth would my family want a home here?"

Hermione rolled her eyes and kept walking. "Then why a muggle hotel?"

He caught up with her in several large strides. "There is a very small wizarding community here, and it will be no help to our cause to have them aware of our business. We're keeping this little adventure away from the wizarding world."

"You mean you don't want our names together circulating in the society papers."

"Besides," he continued as if he didn't hear her, "your muggle parents will obviously stick to muggle things, including muggle hotels. Australia's wizarding community is of no consequence to us."

She huffed softly at the sheer elitism in his words. "Let's just get this over with."

Armed with a photo of her parents and their aliases, they walked into the police station to file a missing persons report.

**xxx**

Days passed.

There's no word from the police station. She wrestled him into muggle clothes in order to blend into the crowd. They posted flyers on telephone poles and canvassed famous restaurants and parks. He insisted that using magic would be much more efficient and complained about her lackluster "muggle" methods.

One day he suggested that they use the Imperius Curse on a group of muggles to do it for them. Without thinking, she pulled her gun out on him in the middle of a crowded street. Panic ensued.

She was taken away in a police car, and spent four hours in jail before he showed up to bail her out. When she saw him, he looked just as disheveled and ill-tempered as she felt.

"I hope you're pleased with yourself." he said irritably. "It took me ages to figure out how to get here, and I'm certain that muggle driver charged me more than the proper fare."

"Shut up." she snarled.

"For the record, it was a joke. I wasn't serious."

"I don't care how you meant it! Don't you _ever_ suggest using those sorts of spells on muggles ever again. Don't even _think_ it."

"Well that's unfortunate seeing how these officers won't be as willing to locate your parents now that you've presented yourself as an unstable threat to the public." he hissed in return.

She took in the wary looks the police officers gave them. Letting out an irritated sigh, she conceded, "Just this once."

He slipped his wand out of his inner coat pocket and waved it in the officer's direction. "_Obliviate._"

**xxx**

Another week passed.

They checked local real estate agents and hotels. They inquired about small business licenses at City Hall. When nothing turned up, they moved to a different city and started all over again.

"This is peasant's work." he grumbled under his breath as he taped another flyer to the side of a wall.

A growing sense of hopelessness hovered over their heads.

Snow followed them wherever they went.

**xxx**

At first, they stayed in separate rooms. It looked odd to the concierge that two young people who knew each other would book different rooms as far away from each other as possible while remaining on the same floor, but Hermione didn't care. Then one day Malfoy forgot to put the "Do Not Disturb" sign on his door. The incident with the cleaning lady that ensued forced them to start booking one room with two beds.

As the weeks passed and there was nothing to show for their efforts, she started losing sleep and spent the nights pacing the floor or tossing on her bed. They fought about it a lot. Once he placed a _silencio_ on her so he could sleep in peace. Incensed, she started hurling objects at him until he lifted it.

One night, while she rolled on her side once more, she heard him let out a frustrated groan. He shuffled out of bed. She started to turn toward him, ready for another row, when his arms suddenly wrapped around her as he slipped into her bed.

"What do you think you're doing?!"

"I am going to get some sleep tonight if it's the last thing I do." he growled near her ear. "Now settle down and bloody sleep, Granger." She struggled fiercely, but his hold on her remained firm. He tangled his legs around hers so she couldn't kick him. "Stop this. We _will_ find your parents."

Hermione stilled at his words.

"You knew it was going to be difficult. That's why I'm here," he grumbled in a sleep-deprived whisper, "but we'll get nowhere if you don't rest and keep your mind sharp."

She chewed on her bottom lip, fighting to keep her tears from falling. "What if I don't find them?" she whispered tremulously.

He relaxed his grip on her. "We will."

He fell asleep twenty minutes later. It took another half hour before she relaxed in his limp arms. She felt his steady heartbeat pulsing against her back, and remembered the last time she felt that very same pulse echo through her body. It was something she never thought she'd experience again. Her fingers traced the arm he wrapped around her stomach, and plucked gently at his long-sleeved sleep shirt. She remembered he too had something to hide beneath long sleeves, and her stomach twisted in disgust. Still, his presence eased the sharp blade of loneliness out of her chest, at least for the moment. Sleep came easily to her that night.

When she woke up the next morning, he was already dressed and was watching the television with begrudging amusement. Her eyes felt sticky and swollen as she sat up. Her fingers bumped into a smooth, thin object. She instantly recognized it as her wand.

"You didn't try to take it from me last night." he said without looking away from the screen. "One act of trust deserves another."

She didn't respond, but gripped her wand tightly with an overwhelming sense of relief and happiness. For the first time, the constant loop in her head—_Snatchers, Malfoy Manor, Bellatrix Lestrange_—stopped.

The tension between them all but dissipated.

They began sharing a room with a queen bed.

**xxx**

Finally, they got a lead.

Wendell and Monica Wilkins worked at a small dental firm in Hobart. Further inquiries revealed that they've been renting a small apartment not far from the firm. The receptionist at the dental office said that Mr. and Mrs. Wilkins were on vacation currently, but would be back on the 26th.

Hermione thanked the receptionist repeatedly. Draco pulled her away before she completely lost her composure.

"Thank god!" she sobbed into her hands.

"Who?" he asked in confusion.

She burst out laughing, and threw her arms around him.

His neck became damp with her tears. He returned her embrace.

All they had to do now was wait.

**xxx**

They stopped by a restaurant for lunch. She thought it looked promising. He didn't care either way since all muggle shops were an abysmal disappointment in his eyes.

"I have to admit I'm surprised, Granger." Draco said casually while taking a sip of his tea. "I'd always thought it'd be Potter."

She finished the last bite of her sandwich before speaking. "Excuse me?"

"At trial, Weasley called you his girlfriend. I always thought it'd be Potter." he shrugged as though it didn't matter, but his eyes remained curious. "Potter at least has the appeal of being famous and moderately well-off to compensate for his unseemly qualities. Weasley, on the other hand, is insufferable, stupid, and _dirt poor_."

"Not everything is about money." she reasoned. His nose scrunched in distaste, and she entertained the idea of breaking that pointy nose with her fist.

"I beg to differ," he scoffed. "Even if we overlook that horrible quality, he's still an obnoxious tosser. Why him?"

Hermione wiped her mouth with a napkin as she gathered her thoughts. Surprisingly, she wasn't angry at his comments. She was slightly annoyed, but not angry. It occurred to her that he was getting oddly personal. If she looked hard enough, there might have even been a compliment somewhere in there for her.

"It's rather complicated and I have no idea why you'd be interested in my personal life, but for the moment we're not together." she said finally.

He nodded his head as if giving her his seal of approval on her split from Ron. She didn't know whether to laugh at his conceit, or kick him under the table. "That doesn't explain the 'why' though."

"I don't know what you want me to say. I can't explain why I fancied him anymore than I can expect you to understand the importance of elf rights, despite my many attempts to enlighten you on it."

"Yes, let's please avoid conversing about the plight of house elves everywhere. I'm not due for my midday nap for at least another hour." Draco sighed exasperatedly. "Are those the kinds of legislations you plan to push for in the Ministry?"

"Of course."

"Hm."

"Is there something you have to say about it?"

"There's nothing _to_ say about it." he dismissed with a pretentious tilt of his head. "So if you can't tell me what made that wanker desirable, at least tell me what brought you back to your senses and made you drop him."

"I don't think I will." Hermione said softly, gently cupping her teacup with her fingertips.

He tapped his fingers twice against the table, an impatient sound. "Fine. Why not Potter then? You used to get all worked up over him during school. I thought it was sexual frustration."

She laughed, tilting her head to the side. "It would have been so easy to choose him, huh?" Sometimes she thought they could've been the easiest thing in the world. "Harry and I could have been wonderful together," she said with a brittle smile, "but he's taken up most of my life already. I couldn't bring myself to give him the rest of it. I didn't want to be completely consumed by Harry Potter."

Shaking her head a little, she continued in a brighter tone, "Besides, he didn't choose me either. He wanted Ginny."

Draco's impenetrable gray eyes searched her face for something she did not know. Finally he looked away and murmured, "An idiot, through and through."

Her lips curved into a flattered smile. "Careful, Malfoy. I might think you're giving me a compliment."

"By saying Potter's a bloody moron?" he asked smoothly. "I've always thought of it as a fact of life."

For the second time in her life, she found herself laughing at the expense of her best friend with Draco Malfoy: clever, sharp-tongued, striking, _dangerous_ Draco Malfoy.

**xxx**

A different sort of tension cropped up between them in the following days. It's old and familiar, but mild and easily ignored at first. Nevertheless, it simmered to a boil quickly.

It had been an especially cold night. The snow that had let up for a while returned with a vengeance. The wind howled outside the window and the cold crept silently through the cracks. They had both retired to the bed with the lights turned off. His arm was thrown over her stomach and his body curled around her back.

She shifted and bumped into his hips. There was a hardness there distinctly different from the sharp angles of his hipbone. It wasn't the first time she felt his body's reaction to her proximity. It wasn't something they spoke about either. He was never embarrassed so she shrugged it off as his body's natural reaction to relatively intimate circumstances. For the most part, once she got over the initial surprise and mild outrage, she simple shifted forward to keep their lower bodies separated.

This time she didn't move away.

Instead, after staring at the blue-wallpaper designs while considering her options, and feeling her body ache with desire, she settled deeper against his hips and turned toward him. He was wide awake, watching her intently with stormy gray eyes. He must've read something in her expression, permission perhaps, or most likely her desire, because his pupils dilated and his arm suddenly pulled her tighter to him. The sound of the bed sheets rustling and their heavy breathing filled the quiet room as she fully turned her body to face him and wrapped her leg over his hips.

He surged up and pressed his mouth to hers in a heated kiss, rolling her underneath him. She remembered this feeling: the taste, the hunger, the _burn_. Her fingers threaded through his hair, and she keened in pleasure when he removed both of their pajama bottoms and pressed his hot naked flesh against hers. His hands moved underneath her shirt and tried to pull it off her.

Instinctively, she pushed his hands away and broke the kiss, shouting, "No!"

Draco reared back, startled, as if he couldn't believe she would stop him now. Hermione's tight her grip on the front of his shirt told him that she wanted him to stay, but he knew by the way the corners of her eyes creased that he had somehow managed to ruin the mood. His eyes roamed her body and stopped where his hands rested against her bare stomach. _Oh fuck._

"It stays on." she demanded with a strained voice. It sounded wet with tears.

"It stays on." he agreed, slipping his hands away from her torso and snaking one arm around her shoulders. "It's bloody cold anyway."

His other arm found purchase on her hips and finally, _finally_, he slid inside her with a smooth thrust. It stung quite a bit but she urged him on, lifting her hips to meet his thrusts every time. The sudden fullness and the pain reminded her of their previous encounters when she was younger, unblemished, and foolish. Sex with Draco, with his impatient mouth and eager hips, had always given her more pain than pleasure, but she preferred it that way. She wanted it to hurt. It was supposed to hurt with him. This way, she could pretend her tears were from the rough sex rather than from the vulnerability he'd nearly exposed in his rush to get her naked. She could pretend her body was heating up with the endorphins from pleasure. She could ignore the angry, white heat in her heart at the fact that she was letting him touch her again, that she _wanted_ him to touch her, again and again and _again_.

She didn't want him to ever stop touching her.

"You're the worst thing that ever happened to me," she accused, biting his shoulders partly to stifle a moan from a particularly well-placed thrust and partly to punish him. "I missed you so much."

"The feeling's mutual," he assured her, panting with desire. He sounded and looked just as displeased with it as she felt, but it was hard to focus on that resentment when his body was so hard and so fast and so _deep_ inside her. She wouldn't be surprised if she bled again. He adjusted his grip on her and pressed her into the mattress, his hips crashing into hers with an intensity that had her toes curling.

It ended quickly with both of them unraveled and flushed. He pulled out and collapsed on his back next to her. Hermione felt uncomfortably hot in her sweat-drenched sleep shirt but there was no help for that unless she took it off.

They'd never had sex fully naked before. It was a funny thought, and it brought a bitter smile to her face. She shifted her legs, wincing at the sharp pain.

"On a bed this time," she said in a deprecating tone. "It almost feels like you care."

"There's the little smart-mouthed swot I know," Draco huffed. "I was starting to wonder if she'd make an appearance tonight."

She laughed because his moodiness was familiar and comforting and the irony of feeling comfortable around Draco Malfoy never failed to be hilarious. "What are we doing?" she asked, throwing an arm across her eyes.

"We are having a lot sex while we still have time," he announced, slanting a glance at her.

Hermione turned her head toward him with an inexplicable smile. "You sound awfully confident."

"We've obviously gone bonkers, Granger. What's the point of insanity if we don't get to have a little irresponsible fun?"

"So I'm Granger again, huh?"

"You're always Granger." His hand ran up her thighs and cupped her gently between her legs. She felt that touch tingle all the way up to her breasts. "The only time you're any different is when you're trying to kill me with this sweet little body of yours."

Suddenly, the only thing that mattered to her was hearing him say her name again. The anger and hurt was still there, but it only intensified the experience.

Hate sex was the best sex.

**xxx**

The next day, Draco bought a set of button front pajamas from a muggle store. He surprised her with it that night when they were getting ready for bed. She approved of the easy access it gave to unnecessarily covered skin.

"Why didn't you get me a set too?"

"Because you're going to be sleeping in this." he replied, tossing one of his button-down shirts at her.

"You want me to sleep in your shirt." she repeated, holding up the crisp white shirt to view it properly.

"I want to fuck you while you wear my shirt." he corrected. "The sleeping part doesn't matter to me."

She didn't realize he was so tall until she wore it. His shirt ended near her knees, and the sleeves fell past her fingertips by two inches. Hermione couldn't see the appeal since she was practically swimming in fabric, but the second he laid his quicksilver eyes on her, she knew he liked it _very_ much.

When it was done, she had enough marks on her torso to show how much Draco had missed her chest.

When it was done, he had enough marks on his torso to show how much Hermione had missed his body as well.

**xxx**

"Aren't you worried I'll get pregnant?"

"You're a smart woman. I trust you've taken the necessary precautions."

It was the first time anyone had ever called her that: a woman. Not _girl_ or _witch_ or _young lady_. It felt good, _really_ good. So good, in fact, that she decided to make him feel good too.

"Smart boy." she praised before sliding down his body, and taking him in her mouth.

"Oh fuck." he hissed, holding her head in place. She moaned in response, the sweet vibrations sweeping through his veins like lightning. "_Hermione!_"

**xxx**

Sometimes he watched her walk around the room.

"Did I hurt you?" he'd asked.

He did, but he had hurt her far worst with more important things. Besides, she wasn't a stranger to physical pain. "Not at all." she'd replied.

She knew he wasn't fooled, especially when she often took long hot soaks to ease the soreness. He didn't tone down the intensity though. In fact, sometimes it felt like he was being purposefully rough, as if he were trying to force a concession from her. On those occasions, she gritted her teeth and hissed, "_Harder_."

She wanted it that way with him so she would never forget that he was the one who hurt her.

**xxx**

On the twenty-fifth, Hermione was a nervous wreck.

She paced and fretted and generally made Malfoy miserable because he wasn't worried, and it pissed her off.

It was the first night they didn't have sex since they fell back into the habit of sleeping together. Instead, they lay on the bed underneath the covers, wide awake and not touching.

"It's because he's a git." she said, staring up at the ceiling.

"Who?" he asked brusquely.

"Ron. I broke up with him because he's a selfish, myopic git." Hermione didn't know why she was bringing this up now of all times, but it felt important that he should know since he'd asked her. She felt him shift next to her and knew she had his full attention. "He's loud and abrasive and rude and never saw me as a proper girl for years, but it had always been him. Then, during the war, he left after saying some really cruel things to Harry. He left us in the tent when we were still trying to find the horcruxes.

"I've tried to get past it. I tell myself, it wasn't his fault. He was controlled by the necklace." she felt the familiar sting behind her eyes and gritted her teeth. Goddamn it. She was tired of crying because of that fool. "But the necklace only amplifies thoughts the wearer already had, and I just can't believe he made the whole thing out to be about him when it was about Harry and me. And then the trial–" her breath hitched and she stopped, swallowing her rage back down with an audible gulp. "It just wasn't about him, but he _made_ it about him."

"I understand."

"Do you?" she asked, her voice razor-sharp with anger. "Do you really? Can you understand how it feels to have someone talk about your pain as if it were his own? As if he could ever imagine what it was like? That's what Ron did to me. He made my torture his pain. He had no right. That experience belongs to me and _only_ me. How dare he try to make it about himself? How dare he try to reduce me to a thing that needed to be saved? "My girlfriend." We weren't even dating at the time! Even if I needed to be saved, even if he hadn't been locked in the dungeons, I wouldn't have wanted it to be him. I don't need help from such a disloyal person, from someone who abandoned his friends in a _war_."

She turned her head in his direction. "Can you really say you understand how that feels, Malfoy?"

She waited. He exhaled audibly and said, "How do you think I felt when Potter swooped in during my trial like some bumbling hero out to stick his nose where it doesn't belong? The courts didn't want to hear my side, but if Harry _bloody_ Potter will talk, by all means, give him the floor!"

"That's different," she argued. "He was trying to save you."

"I didn't _need_ his help." he snarled back viciously. "I didn't need him to conflate my mother's actions with his dead mother's actions and make it about him and how he's the Chosen One and how he saved the world from the Dark Lord and, oh, did he mention how everyone in that room would be dead now if it weren't for his bloody noble deed of defeating the greatest dark wizard of our time? What a joke."

"You and your family would've been locked up in Azkaban had it not been for Harry's testimony. Don't be so bitter about accepting his help."

"My mother tried to say the exact same thing Potter said when she was on trial, and no one would hear it. Why should her story or my story be any less authentic or credible? Is it because she married a Death Eater? Because her son was one too? Because I was a child who grew up with that brand of philosophy? Because I wanted to protect my family? Why were our struggles more palatable when Potter said it? I'll tell you why. It's because it stopped being about us and it became about him." he let out a short, bitter laugh. "Harry Potter reforms Malfoy Family, or so the press wrote. What bollocks."

Hermione stayed quiet as she absorbed his story, and weighed his rage against her own. "At least the ruling came out in your favor." she said finally. "The only thing Ron's testimony did was to maintain the façade that it was the three of us throughout the war. He was just trying to assuage his own guilt for being the one who left. What did I get from it besides being humiliated?"

He turned to face her, his silver eyes steady and cool. "You came to your senses and dropped him. That's got to be worth something. You lost about 200 lbs worth of stupid."

It was so unexpected that she burst out laughing in surprise. "He's not that heavy." she said around her mirth.

"You underestimate the weight of stupidity." Draco responded with an amused crinkle of his nose. "I heard that 100 pounds of stupid is equal to about one-third of a troll's weight. That's quite a heavy burden for you to have been dragging around with you for so long."

"Shut up!" she tugged her pillow out from underneath her head and threw it at him.

**xxx**

The blue-gray morning light filtered slowly into their room. Hermione stood anxiously by the door while Draco finished buttoning his shirt. She watched him straighten his collar, and was torn between feeling frustrated by his composure and relief that at least someone was calm. Something bright near his neck winked at her. It caught her attention.

"What's that?"

He glanced at her to see her pointing at his neck. "Oh, this? It's my pin. Mother gave it to me for my sixteenth birthday."

He plucked it off his collar, and handed it to her. It was a silver snake pin with eyes made of green gems. The mirror must have reflected the light onto it. Distantly, she remembered that spring-like fall day in sixth year where something bright had drawn her attention to him. It had been this pin.

"You don't wear it a lot." she said, passing it back to him. "It's very _Slytherin_."

"In case you've forgotten, I come from a family of Slytherins." he said, slipping it back into place on his collar.

"How could I forget?" she asked with a sad little smile.

After giving himself another look in the mirror, he walked over to her and opened the door. "Ready?"

She looked away, heart hammering beneath her ribs. "Yes," she said finally.

**xxx**

They arrived at the dental office just as the doors open for business. After a quick lock charm on the door and a sleep spell on the secretary, Draco ushered Hermione into the small office in the back where her parents were pulling files for the workday ahead of them. Wendell and Monica Wilkins looked up in surprise at the young couple standing in their doorway.

"Excuse me, do you have an appointment?" Mr. Granger asked.

Hermione nearly lost her grip on her wand. They looked at her with no recognition in their faces. They really didn't know who she was. _Of course they don't. You made sure of it._

She felt Draco's hand squeeze her shoulder. "Now," he said softly.

Nodding, she pulled her wand out with her nerveless hand.

Her parents looked startled, sure that a couple of unstable people had somehow wandered into their office, but before they could move, Hermione quickly muttered the counter charm.

**xxx**

Draco had never given much thought to what would happen when people who had been obliviated for a long period of time suddenly had their memories restored. He didn't think it was a common practice to tamper with someone's mind to that extent. Perhaps they would remember none of their new lives, or perhaps they would remember everything they had forgotten instantly and harmoniously.

Though, if he were to use Granger's parents as a case study, it seemed that having your old memories restored was akin to experiencing world-shattering alarm and confusion.

"Oh, my head!" Mrs. Granger cried out.

"Careful, mum." Hermione said, rushing forward to steady the older woman.

"Mum? I'm not your mum. I don't have a daughter!" she tried to shake Hermione off but in the next second, she stilled, squinting hard at her. "Wait. I know you. _Hermione_? Your name is Hermione. How do I know you? Wendell! Wendell, who _is_ this girl?"

"Mum," Hermione repeated, voice thick with despair. She seemed incapable of saying anything else.

"Wendell! Why aren't you answering me?"

Mr. Granger looked around, bewildered. "Are you talking to me?"

"Of course I am!" the older woman snapped. "I called your name, didn't I?"

"Wendell? Is that my name? That doesn't seem right. I could have sworn it was something else…Granger, perhaps?"

Draco heard a faint banging at the front door and decided to move things to a more private venue. "Hold on tight." he told Hermione needlessly. She already had an iron grip on her mother. Quickly he grabbed Granger's hand firmly while latching onto her dad's arm ("What are you doing, young man? Unhand me!") before apparating all of them to the hotel room.

It took several calming spells, a silencing charm, a "Do Not Disturb" paper sign he place on the outside of the door, and hours of talking and screaming and hysteria before her parents were able to slowly reconcile their two lives together.

"You erased our memories?" Mr. Granger asked in disbelief. "You can do that? I didn't think this magic stuff extended beyond making things fly and making things lighter than they are and—"

"It's _magic_," Draco interrupted. "Anything is possible."

"I had to," Hermione insisted. "I needed to protect you. There was a war and—"

"A war?" Mrs. Granger gasped. "What war? Why didn't you tell us about this? Why did we need protection?"

Draco watched with a strange tightness in his throat as Granger's tears fell steadily down her face. "I…Mum," she rasped, reaching out her trembling hands. Mrs. Granger quickly grasped her daughter's hands in a confident, motherly swoop. It was odd, considering she had insisted vehemently just an hour ago that she was no one's mum.

"Mum…I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"Hermione, what are you talking about?" Mrs. Granger asked in alarm.

With clumsy fingers, Granger pushed her left sleeve up to her elbows.

Draco stiffened. _Mudblood._

"You tried to protect me from this." Granger said over her mother's suddenly loud cry. "I thought it would be different there, but it was the same."

Mrs. Granger couldn't have known what that word meant, and yet she knew. Draco could see it on the woman's face, the heartbreak. He watched in morbid fascination as Mrs. Granger also lifted her left sleeve (_Always the left arm,_ Draco observed dryly) to reveal a series of faded numbers he didn't understand. _Was it a code?_ he thought.

"I would've never allowed you to go back there if I knew." Mrs. Granger whispered fervently, eyes swelling with tears. "Oh, why didn't you tell us? You told us, that headmaster of yours assured us that Hogwarts was _the safest place_ for you to be."

Granger cried harder.

Mr. Granger was beside himself with anger. He tried to comfort his family with long hugs and soothing words. Draco suddenly felt indecent standing there, witnessing this scene. As if sensing his discomfort, Mr. Granger turned his attention on Draco.

"Were you in the war too, young man?" Mr. Granger asked tightly.

"Yes," Draco answered hesitantly.

"What's your name?"

"Draco Malfoy."

Mr. Granger tilted his head in thought. "I don't think Hermione's ever mentioned you before."

Draco was stunned. She never talked about him? She never told her parents about the Slytherin boy who made fun of her and called her that very slur that was carved into her arm? How much did her parents really know about their daughter?

"Are you like her as well? From a normal family?" Mrs. Granger asked.

_Normal?_ Draco thought, flabbergasted. It had never occurred to him that muggles thought they were the norm, that magic was an anomaly that, judging from the faint prejudice in the older woman's voice, was looked down on and undesirable.

"No. My parents are wizards." Draco answered. Her sharp eyes made him nervous. It felt as though she could read his position in the war as though it were scrawled across his face.

"You're a _Nazi_, aren't you?" Mrs. Granger spat out suddenly, angrily. Draco froze at the unfamiliar accusation. "I can tell. You all look the same, with your blond hair and those cold eyes. You _monster_. Did you do this to my little girl?"

"Mum! He's not a Nazi." Granger denied, tightening her hold on her parents. "He taught me how to defend myself. He helped me find you and dad. Please! Please, just calm down."

This placated her parents and Mrs. Granger apologized. Draco accepted it numbly, letting that strange word ring in his ears.

Finally, her parents left to straighten out their affairs in Australia. They planned to move back to London as soon as possible once they've dealt with the Wilkins identity. Mr. Granger made sure to exchange phone numbers before they left.

"What's a Nazi?" Draco blurted out in the still room.

Hermione shifted on the bed. "A Death Eater." she replied.

The implications of that word buzzed through his head. "You lied to your parents?"

"I lied to my parents." she said. "I'm good at that."

**xxx**

Hermione decided that was their last night together.

And despite the confrontation between her mum and Draco—and the reminder of how absurd her relationship with him was—Hermione needed just one more night with him, even if it made her hate herself.

But when her fingers attacked his clothes, hastily trying to undress him, Draco stilled her hands. "What are you doing?" he asked, bewildered.

"What do you think?"

"Granger, I don't know what's going on in that head of yours, but this isn't the time for that right now."

_Unbelievable. _Out of all the times they'd had sex, he would choose now to deny her.

"Fine." she snapped. "I'll just go to Ron when everything here is finished."

His grip tightened on her wrists. "_What?_"

"You can leave now." she said cruelly. "Your job's done. Why don't use your portkey and pop back over to your English manor?"

"You're going back to Weasley? After all of this between us?" he snarled.

"After all of what?" she challenged. "What's between us? What could we possibly have besides the war and a few school years?"

He released her and turned away, his steps heavy with anger and disbelief. He looked over at her again with his mercury eyes. "And all this time, I thought Gryffindors were brave." he said softly.

"We _are_."

"Clearly not all of you. Why else are you running away then?"

"This isn't running away. It's self-preservation." It wasn't a very Gryffindor response. If anything, it sounded like something a Slytherin would say. The thought unsettled her.

"That's a nice way of saying cowardice." he sneered. "Look, I get that Weasley, in all his _oafish_ glory, is the practical, easy choice, but we both know he's not the right choice. You said it yourself. He's a selfish, myopic git."

"Oh, and you aren't?" she asked nastily. "Are _you_ the right choice? You, with your bigoted family, and your prejudice against muggleborns, and your manor where I bled my dirty blood onto the hardwood floors? I bet your ancestors rolled in their graves when that happened. Don't you get it? There is no right choice. There's _nothing_ for us."

"Do you really think you can just write off this entire month like some sort of drunken mistake?"

"We may not have been drunk but we both know this wasn't going to last. You're the one who wanted to keep this out of the wizarding news. Don't think for a moment that just because we had sex, that it meant anything."

"You're not going to fight for this." he said, disproval in his tone.

She wanted to laugh in his face. Who did he think he was to shame her for this decision? What could he possibly offer her that would make her forget his part in the war? "No. I'm tired of fighting the war. If I stay with you, I'll never stop fighting it. It'll never end."

"Being with him won't make it stop."

"Maybe not, but being with you won't make it better. Not with your prejudice still intact. Don't think that just because you see me as some sort of exception to your ignorant beliefs that it makes okay to hold onto them. You have nothing to give me."

"You think Weasley can give you more than I can?" he asked, outraged. "I have more money than he could ever dream of. I've got homes in four continents. Name one bloody thing that impoverished peddler can give you that I can't."

"He can give me an easy life." Hermione responded. "He can give me a family that won't look down on me because my background. He can give me children that won't make his parents cringe. Those are the things he can give me."

Something cracked beneath his rage. She could see it in his face. Hermione thought it might have been his pride. Not only had Harry bested him for all those years, but now Ron had topped him without even trying. _Poor little rich boy isn't getting what he wanted_, she thought meanly.

"You expect me to leave now?"

"There's no rush." she glanced at him nonchalantly. "You can leave in the morning."

This time, he took her unspoken offer with a heated kiss. "If you want me, don't think that running to Weasley will satisfy you." Draco snarled into her ear as he ran his hand up the inside of her thighs and cupped her face close to his with his other hand. "That prick will never make you feel the way I can make you feel."

She was counting on it.

"No clothes this time. I want _everything_ off." she whispered back. She couldn't stand the thought of always having some sort of barrier between them when they had sex. Just this once, she wanted skin on skin. If she didn't, it would kill her. He'd seen her scar already. He knew her secret. She felt the hesitation in his body but he nodded and together, they slowly pulled off the pants and the shoes and the socks and the undergarments.

And then the shirts.

Hermione watched as he brought her left arm up by the elbow and gently kissed the thin layer of skin on her wrist. It was such a different touch from the last time he grabbed that arm. "I'll never say that word again," he promised her. "I'll make sure my son will never say it too. He'll be a much better person than I'll ever be."

It was a nice thought, but she didn't put much faith in a promise breaker. Besides, he was moving too slowly for her liking. She didn't know how to handle him when he was like this: sentimental and sincere. So she pressed her lips against his jawline, making sure to avert her gaze from his left forearm, and tugged impatiently at him until they were both sprawled on the bed.

There was something different about him. She couldn't put her finger on it. Perhaps it was the way his touch seemed to linger on her body or the way he watched her reactions with those silvery eyes. When he slid into her slowly, so slowly that she could feel every inch and every vein, it hit her.

He was being _gentle_. The roughness she had come to expect was absent. Even the way they were positioned spoke of a tenderness he'd never exhibited. _No_, she thought frantically, _this isn't supposed to happen like this. This isn't what I wanted. _It was too late. Her body couldn't help but tremble in response to this new, intoxicating sensation. It had never experienced such pleasure before in the absence of pain. Her nerves lit up everywhere he touched her.

Draco hovered inches above her body, sinking in and pulling out in such an achingly slow and steady pace that her heart stuck in her throat. He placed his left hand on her hips to keep her steady while his other hand pillowed her head, fingers tangled in her hair. He made sure to keep their mouths a mere breath's distance away so he could kiss her whenever he felt the compulsion to or whenever she urgently needed to kiss him. She needed to kiss him often, to taste his mouth and to feel his tongue inside her mouth.

Suddenly, Hermione knew what he was doing. Furious, she tried to raise her guard up against him, to shut him out. She chanted, "I'm going to be with Ron. I'm leaving you for Ron," over and over in her head, willing him to see it in her eyes as he gazed at her, wanting to hurt him the same way he seemed determine to destroy her, but it was too late. She could do nothing but reach for his kisses and try to hold onto him with fluttering hands as he pushed lightning sharp pleasure through her veins. She couldn't control her body. Every limb trembled as her toes curled tightly because it was _so good,_ _so very good_. She came apart with tears in her eyes and a delirious smile, one hand gripping his body close to hers and the other clutching fistfuls of his hair between her fingers. In that moment, Hermione swore that she loved him, could have loved him, if things had just been different. If there hadn't been a war, if he hadn't been raised to be a bigoted prick, if she hadn't been a muggleborn, then maybe they could have had something. _Maybe_.

Maybe she was a little in love with him now. Maybe she had been all along, though only a little. Just a bit. She bit her lips against the sting of fresh tears. This time, with his tenderness and kisses, he'd hurt her beyond repair, worst than she'd ever anticipated. _Maybe I do love you, you arrogant git._

His control faltered. His pace picked up slowly. By the end, his hips were grinding against hers as he buried his face against the side of her neck.

"_Hermione_." he keened against her pulse point as he came inside her with a sigh.

It felt a little like home.

"Let go, Draco." she said, even as she locked her ankles around his back and pulled him closer, deeper, tighter into her body.

He hissed in response, branding her skin with his fingerprints.

**xxx**

Night melded seamlessly into the gray morning.

It was the perfect time to disclose one last secret.

Hermione traced the scar on her arm with her eyes, line by crooked line. It's easier this way: to see the parts instead of the whole, to see the lines rather than the letters, and _never_ the word. Draco's presence next to her makes it impossible to ignore it though. _The big_ _prat_.

"I think about that night sometimes." she said tonelessly, as if there were no listeners in the room. He wisely kept quiet and didn't move; the perfect invisible witness to a conversation that never existed during an encounter that never happened. "The way her breath smelled, the itchy strands of her hair in my face, the sound of her voice, the incredible strength I never knew she possessed. Mostly though, I think about the knife. I never knew what happened to it after…well, _after_."

She sucked in a huge breath for strength. "I think about how it wasn't as sharp as it looked. It was kind of old really. I reckon it took away bits of tissue fibers along with my blood as mementos. In a way, it's my knife."

Slowly, he tilted his head in agreement. "We both know how little I care about house elves. It's your knife."

Her voice caught a little in her throat, but she pressed on. "No one thinks of it that way. Everyone knows it as Dobby's knife because it killed him. Harry saw it and pulled it out and threw it aside somewhere carelessly. No one alive saw that knife in me," Hermione turned her head and looked at him with huge, dark eyes, "except you and your family."

The silence expanded between them until, "I still have her wand."

Draco tensed up. "You have Bellatrix's wand." he repeated.

"I don't use it." she protested immediately, guiltily. "I have a proper wand to use now. It's just, well, I don't have the knife and I needed it. I needed some kind of proof, something solid and real. Something to prove that she existed, and that she did this to me. I don't want people to deny it years later, or have people forget. It's easy to forget the details of war once it's over."

"Potter and Weasley won't forget."

"We don't talk about it." she whispered. "We don't talk about the war. We just don't because if we do, we'll have to talk about everything. And I don't know how that conversation will go. Besides, they didn't see it happen."

"I saw it." he reached his hand out, hovering it over her scar, keeping a respectful distance between them. "I won't forget."

"No, you won't. When I look at you, I can see it in your face." Hermione's gaze dropped to his left forearm and rested her fingers lightly against his cursed skin. She was surprised it didn't burn her on contact. "But I also see this when I look at you. I can't forget. _I can't._"

_I can't be with you._

After everything, she deserved an easy life. Ron would give that to her.

Draco pulled her close and kissed her with those Death Eater lips. He kissed her as if he were trying to swallow her whole. In some ways, she wished he had.

**xxx**

In the morning, Draco put on his wizarding robes and packed away his belongings.

Hermione checked to make sure he hadn't left anything behind. As she peeked in the drawers, a thought suddenly struck her.

"The ring!" she gasped.

"What?"

"The ring! Ron gave me a promise ring. I must've dropped it in the meadow. Oh, he'll never forgive me if I lost it." she fretted.

Draco observed her for a moment, as if to gauge the sincerity of her distress, before saying, "Come here."

He removed his silver snake pin, and with a quick tap of his wand along with a wordless charm, the snake sprung to life and slithered into a perfect circle on his palm. It clamped down on its own tail and settled into an ouroboros ring.

He held it out to her. "What did the ring look like?"

She hesitated. Surely she could find something else transfigure into Ron's ring. Nevertheless, she raised her own wand and tapped the ring. _There._ A perfect replica.

Draco closed his hand around the ring and held it up to his scrutinizing gaze. "Hm." Even his hum sounded derisive.

"Be nice," she warned.

"Which finger do you wear it on?"

"I don't." she bit her lip and clarified. "I mean, I haven't worn it yet."

He raised an eyebrow but said nothing. Lifting her left hand, he gently slid it down her ring finger. She took a deep breath, savoring his closeness. He seemed to be doing the same thing.

"What are you going to do when you get back?" she asked, trying to keep him close for one moment longer.

"Father wants me to finish my degree at Hogwarts. Mother agreed so I'm going." he smiled self-deprecatingly. "There'll be NEWTs in my future."

"And hopefully a Defense Against the Dark Arts professor that will last the full year." she added teasingly. "I heard my professor is sticking around, but who knows if it's true."

Draco gave her a small smile in return. His eyes roamed her features intently as if he meant to memorize it. "How are you returning home if I'm taking the portkey?"

"By plane."

"Excuse me?"

His confusion was so endearing, she laughed, and reached up to kiss him one last time. He responded eagerly, gently.

Maybe they had enough time for one more round, just one more. Maybe, if she brought his hand to her breast, if she cupped him in her hand, if she dropped to her knees and held his delicious length in her mouth again, if she asked nicely, if he agreed to stay, if _she_ agreed to stay, if she—

But it was too late. It had always been too late.

Their lips parted for breath, for just a moment, and then he was gone, carried back to London even before his taste faded from her mouth.

Hermione sighed heavily and looked down at her ring. "Good enough," she said softly.

**xxx**

Hogwarts was exactly how he remembered it before the war, only newer, perhaps.

Draco packed the rest of his things away in his room, making sure to cast a locking charm on trunk. That done, he made his way to the common room where the other Slytherins had gathered. He sat down in a chair closest to the fireplace and stared into the green flames, ignoring the snickering gossip surrounding him.

The entrance opened and the chatter stopped suddenly, as if they had all been shamed by an authority figure. Draco looked up when he sensed a presence near his chair and saw a familiar-looking girl with dark, wavy hair and hazel eyes.

"I'm Head Girl this year. Astoria Greengrass" she introduced with a graceful tilt of her head. He recognized the gesture as one that came from years of society lessons her family impressed upon her. "I believe you know my sister, Daphne."

"Draco Malfoy." he returned politely.

"I know who you are." she smiled humorously.

She had a rose flower tucked behind her ear. His lips curl up in fond remembrance.

"I'm supposed to go over the rules for extended students such as yourself."

Draco gestured to the chair across from him that was currently occupied by a stubborn seventh year. That person quickly buckled under the combined gaze of Draco and Astoria and scuttled away clumsily. "By all means," he gestured chivalrously.

Astoria raised an eyebrow at him and sat down with an amused smile. "Let's get started then."

**xxx**

_Winter always follows spring_

**xxx**

_End_

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><p><strong>Author's End Notes:<strong> Thank you so much for reading and please let me know what you think!


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